


A Reality of Our Own

by literaryempress



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Adoption, Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bullying, Child Abuse, Comic Book References, Comic book nerds, Comic-Con, Cultural References, Domestic Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Shameless Big Bang, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8955244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: Ian Gallagher's heart lies within the world of comic books and fictional universes, for he lives in a reality quite darker than Gotham City itself. He uses these fictional characters and their experiences as a means to cope with the emotional and psychological abuse Frank has put him through, which resulted in the death of his mother and the lack of his own self esteem. At a Chicago Comic Con, he meets Mickey Milkovich, an equally bright-eyed teenager just like him with a mutual interest in comic books and superheroes. They both come together to deviate themselves from the darkness of the outside world, ultimately strengthening their friendship while constructing a deeper connection. However, will friendship, love, and alternate universes be enough for them to overcome life's biggest obstacles?





	1. Origin Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](http://mckmlkvch.tumblr.com/post/154816754745/a-reality-of-our-own-by-literaryempress) is the wonderful artwork that Kerri (mckmlkvch/horror_business) made for me for the Big Bang (if you see this, tysm Kerri; I love it so much). <3
> 
> Also, for those who don't get the comic book references and maybe want to follow along with the story, I went to this site called comicastle.org, and it really helps me find titles to different comic books and all that stuff, as someone who hasn't read as many comics as others have.

Ian has studied cities such as Madripoor, Doomstadt, Metropolis, and Gotham City for years. All of these places have something in common. Yes, they’re all fictional locations from the stash of comic books Ian had been collecting since he was seven years old, but there was a deeper significance to the comparison – a more psychological approach.

These four cities, in addition to the other fictional cities Ian previously read about, host millions of innocent mortal citizens who usually got stuck in the most unfortunate circumstances. Especially in a city like Gotham, the most popular city in the DC universe, there’s non-stop crime occurring left and right, and poor civilians can barely protect themselves without encountering a notorious villain who hid within the shadows.

Gotham City was a lot like Chicago, Illinois – dark, dirty, and dangerous. You would need years of training to survive places like those. To some people, that may sound like an exaggeration, but Ian’s been in Chicago long enough to know that survival is very crucial. Some areas in Chicago didn’t host the best people in the world, especially not the South Side where the redhead grew up. The bad overshadowed the good, and this concept applied to more than just the people. Even the best people in Chicago have a difficult time making it out of here alive.

Ian’s a very optimistic kid, though. He tried seeking out the good in people even when he mainly saw the bad. However, this is easier said than done.

People like his adoptive father Frank Gallagher, for example, were a little trickier for Ian to find the good in. Ian’s known the man since he could speak, and he unfortunately couldn’t obtain too many good memories of him from his back pocket.

Frank Gallagher is a rambunctious, negligent addict. People whom the Gallagher family have told about Frank Gallagher would have mistaken him for a homeless bum on the street. The analogy made sense considering his unkempt hair and poor, worn attire. People like Ian’s older sister Fiona were too ashamed to be around him, or to even refer to Frank as their father.

At the time, Ian was oblivious to it, but Fiona always thought her baby brother was extremely lucky. He, unlike she and their brother Lip, wasn’t related to Frank the same way they were. Sure, Frank has custody of him, but Ian had the genes of another man whom everyone labelled as Ian’s real father. Fiona and Lip often talked among themselves about how lucky Ian will be to not grow up with any genetic connection to the raging alcoholic.

And it was true. Ian could disregard Frank anytime in life that he wanted to. However, Ian was naïve to the idea of Frank as a baby and didn’t notice the same terrible things about Frank as Fiona and Lip did.

That is, until Ian turned five years old.

The older Ian got, the more he realized that the Gallagher home was more abusive than he could imagine. These thin walls weren’t safe and continued to crumble under Frank’s yells, his siblings’ screams, and his mother’s cries. It was a lot like the atmosphere of Gotham City. Underneath the Gallagher home, you had your notorious villain in the form of Frank Gallagher, and the rest were innocent civilians trying to find their own way around.

And today’s victim? Monica Gallagher.

Ian never really understood why Frank was so mean to Monica in the first place. He didn’t get why he was always so angry with her, or why Monica was so scared of him. He never really believed that his family followed the stereotypical norms of an average American family, but he always believed that Frank and Monica could rule the world side by side, if they wanted to. Frank has always talked a great deal about how much he loved Monica when Ian was younger, and Monica looked at Frank like he was Superman, getting ready to save his family from getting killed in a deadly storm.

Today, though, Frank was anything but Superman. He was Lex Luthor, and Monica was his prey.

The night it all went down happened in such a blur. Ian couldn’t sleep and needed a drink of water from the kitchen. However, before his tiny little feet could carry him there, the sound of glass breaking in the living room caught his attention, which prompted him to investigate.

From the top of the stairs, Ian first saw how completely red Frank’s face had gotten, which had Ian’s heart pumping out of his chest. The tone of his voice was far from anything Ian’s ever heard come out of his mouth. His fists resembled boulders getting ready to roll down the hill and knock down the first house it finds. Sweat was all over his face, like he had just been in the gym for two and a half hours nonstop.

And his eyes – Jesus fuck, his eyes were full of fire, and they were directed towards the cowering woman straight ahead.

Ian’s never seen Monica this scared before. Her back was against the wall as she gazed from Frank to the broken vase near her feet and back. It was almost as if Frank was trying to kill her. For what reason, Ian had no idea. Why would a guy like Frank want to harm the love of his life like Monica? _They love each other_ , Ian always thought whenever he saw Frank kiss her temple at the Thanksgiving dinners. _They love each other_ , Ian thought around Christmas time when Monica handed him his perfectly-wrapped gift. _They love each other_ , Ian thought when the Gallaghers participated in their first-ever family photo seven months prior.

 _They…they loved each other_.

And now, as Ian sat at the top of the steps, watching what Frank or Monica’s next move would be, he wondered how true their devotion to each other actually was. Was it all a lie? Was it a mask they hid behind to please their kids? Was it a figment of Ian’s imagination?

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

Frank and Monica love each other…right?

Frank continued to yell in Monica’s face, spit flying from his mouth to the empty space in between the two of them. Ian didn’t like seeing the two of them fight. They were supposed to be a tight unit. It was like Frank always preached: “we’re Gallaghers, and the only thing that can tear us apart is a tornado that whips us out of our homes and into the void.”

That statement used to have so much empowerment behind it. That statement used to help Ian believe in himself, his family, and the Gallaghers’ future. Now it wasn’t as credible as Ian thought it was. Frank was a monster who struck a hand at the love of his life, and Monica grew more and more vulnerable with every slap and every toss of glass.

The Gallagher home wasn’t safe anymore. All of photos of happily smiling Gallaghers hid behind cracked glass in the picture frames. To the outside world, the Gallaghers were invincible when they stood together. Within these walls, it was just as dark and as dangerous as Chicago’s South Side – just as dark and dangerous as Gotham City, in fact – and one of its residents, Monica Gallagher, roamed the place with nothing to defend herself.

Ian hated seeing Frank and Monica like this. He didn’t like seeing Frank this livid, and he didn’t like seeing his mother so afraid of him. Afraid of the same man who posed with her in all of their wedding photos. Afraid of the same man who bottle-fed Fiona as a baby. Afraid of the same man whom Monica gazed upon like he was the only thing left on Earth.

Their relationship was on more than thin ice, and Ian wanted nothing more than to help them someway, somehow. At five years old, he may not be able to do much, but he felt as though he needed to do _something_ before Frank did something to Monica that he would completely regret.

His older sister, however, wouldn’t allow it.

Unaware to Ian, Fiona had been in the hallway on the second floor of the house long enough to find her little brother eavesdropping on their parents from the staircase. Fiona was only ten at the time, but she knew a lot more about Frank and Monica’s toxic relationship than both of her brothers and their little sister Debbie ever would. When Frank got this heated, she knew better than to intervene when she wasn’t needed. It wasn’t the right decision to make, she knows, but what was seven-year-old Fiona Gallagher supposed to do when Frank had a broken beer bottle aimed at her, threatening her to leave the room before he stuck said bottle down her throat?

And she didn’t want the same thing to happen to Ian. Helping other people was one thing, but sacrificing his life at only five years old was another story Fiona didn’t want to get into.

So she grabbed the redhead by the shoulders before he could get any further down the steps. Ian whirled his head around in Fiona’s direction, shooting her a confused glance. “But Fiona,” Ian whispered, a little worried, “he’s gonna hurt her.”

Fiona wished with all her heart that there was something she could say or do that could give Ian some kind of hope that Frank and Monica would be okay, that their family had nothing to worry about. When Frank was this pissed beyond repair, though, and Ian’s watching the entire scene from the shadows, Fiona had no way of explaining everything. Ian was still very young and clueless to how relationships worked. Fiona wasn’t an expert, either, but she got somewhat of an idea of how damaged Frank and Monica’s was.

 _Damaged_ didn’t even feel like the right word to describe it. Actually, one word couldn’t completely paint the full picture of Frank and Monica’s relationship as a whole.

Fiona tightened her hold around her little brother, taking a seat behind him on the steps and bringing her legs around him to keep him close. She couldn’t tell whether or not Frank or Monica actually heard him coming down the stairs – they probably couldn’t with all of Frank’s ranting and Monica’s crying – but she didn’t want to witness the outcome of Ian’s intervention.

Her nose nuzzled at Ian’s bright, red hair on top of his head. His hair had a really soft texture Fiona could sometimes mistake it as a fluffy cloud or a pit of cotton balls. Ian was perhaps one of the most purest things underneath this roof – well, to Fiona, anyway – and the Gallagher household didn’t have that much purity in their possession, not with Frank destroying everything he touched with a few sips of alcohol in his system.

Ian shouldn’t have to be here to watch the downfall of Frank and Monica’s marriage, is what Fiona realized. They were both still kids who deserved a decent rest of their childhoods before they became adults like them. If the rest of their childhoods were gonna face a cruel and violent Frank Gallagher getting drunk on Hennessey every damn day, the Gallagher kids had to make the best out of it someway, somehow. It wasn’t easy, especially since the kids often saw Monica wake up on some mornings with a black eye and a fake smile, but they had to do it somehow.

Fiona brought a hand up to Ian’s hair, smoothing out some of the strands that had been standing up on his head as she craned her head around his to observe Frank backing away from Monica, the woman in front of him pleading like her life depended on it.

And it probably did. Who knows?

“Mom says that Dad has very bad days like everyone does,” Fiona began as carefully as she could, moving her hand from Ian’s head to his shoulder, rubbing it as gently as she could, “but his bad days are a little worse. She doesn’t want us to get hurt when he’s having one of his bad days.”

“But what about Mommy?”

Fiona’s heart sank at the sound of her little brother’s voice. The truth was, neither one of them wanted to see Monica repetitively get hurt by Frank. No matter what she did or didn’t do, she was still their mother, and she loved all of her children unconditionally and would defend from beyond the Milky Way and back. Fiona wished she and Ian could stop them before they ended up in worse circumstances than they were in now, but they were powerless in comparison to Frank. Had Ian stepped in, or had Fiona called the cops on Frank, and they would start sporting the same black eyes Monica would usually get.

Fiona would know; after all, she almost ended up in that situation herself.

She was only seven years old when it first happened to her, yet she was in the same scenario she found her brother in. Frank was as drunk as the sky was blue, and Monica was desperately trying to run out of Frank’s line of sight. Monica was running up the stairs when Fiona came out of the bathroom in time to see Frank with his broken beer bottle. Fiona made a move to run after her mother and join her in the master bedroom, but Frank stopped her before she could even make it to the door, aiming the bottle in her face and almost digging the sharp ends of the bottle into her cheek.

That was the first time Fiona got scared of her father, and she didn’t want the same thing to happen to Ian.

Fiona hugged Ian closer to her as possible – if that was even possible – and placed a gentle kiss to his freckly cheek. They kept their faces side by side, just like that, as their stomachs dropped at the sound of Monica’s cries. “Mommy will be okay,” Fiona told Ian, her left hand coming up towards his cheek to caress it a little. “One day, she won’t be as scared and upset as she is now. Just think about it, Ian. One day, the bad days will go away, and everything could go back to normal so we can be a normal, happy family. We can have our chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast again without Dad breaking his glass of juice. That day will come, but we just have to wait for it.”

A great part of her knew that she was even lying to herself, and every part of her felt guilty for putting such thoughts into Ian’s head. But he was only a five-year-old with a bright mind and a kind soul. She wanted to give him an optimistic outlook in order for her little brother to see past all the fighting and the yelling that was going on downstairs.

One day, when Ian’s old enough to know the truth, then she’ll confess to everything that happened in his childhood. Right now, this is too emotionally and mentally draining for a five-year-old.

And despite his doubts about Fiona’s words, Ian nodded in agreement, only to turn back in the general direction of their parents in the living room. The aggression and rage that had been building up in Frank’s body must have worn him out or something, because he lazily strolled over to the couch where he had been laying for the past couple of nights, too drunk and too weak to allow his legs to carry him up to his and Monica’s bedroom.

The siblings were silent for a moment before Fiona shook his shoulder gently. “Come on, Ian. We’re supposed to be in bed right now.”

“But Fiona,” Ian pouted, “I wanna talk to Mommy.”

“You’ll see her again in the morning, Ian. Come on.” Fiona was now up on her feet, grabbing one of Ian’s hands and dragging him up off the steps.

Since that night, Ian always thought Fiona had a point. The Gallagher house consumed so much energy out of everyone just by having four kids living in it alone. Rumors had been going around that Monica was due for a fifth one anytime soon – about seven more months, perhaps; Ian didn’t quite remember. The combination of her carrying a baby and dealing with Frank didn’t settle with the redhead. His baby brother or sister was swimming around in there, waiting to  be welcomed into the world, and his mother’s using up the energy she needs to care for it while it was in the womb to defend herself against Frank.

It wasn’t fair. Ian was having a new baby brother or sister, and Monica will most likely have to protect herself against Frank throughout the majority of the pregnancy.

Ian continued to have doubts ever since that night, and he feels as though he won’t be satisfied until he’s with his mother again and knows a hundred percent sure she’ll be okay in the long-run. A small spark in the back of his mind really hoped that what Fiona was saying was true – that, one day, the bad days will go away, and that the Gallaghers can be a normal family again.

All Ian could do was hope.

* * *

Some circumstances are unexpected occurrences. Take Supergirl, for example. Kara Zor-El, Supergirl’s real identity, came from the planet Krypton that was unfortunately dying. So she was sent away in a pod by her parents to find and watch over her cousin, Clark Kal-El, who was better known as Clarke Kent on Earth. However, her pod had crashed unexpectedly, and by the time she made it down to Earth, her cousin already became Superman and no longer needed her help.

Circumstances like these, although unexpected, still had their benefits. Had Kara not taken the trip to Earth with her cousin, and Supergirl would have never existed. Hell, she could have died on her home planet. And according to Ian, anything was better than the alternative – better than _death_.

Monica died when Ian was about twelve years old, and she died in a way Ian hoped no one ever should.

It was Carl’s birthday, and a lot of extended family members came to the South Side of Chicago to celebrate. To this day, Ian still cannot fathom how the day ended so terribly. Everyone was having fun and being themselves. Lip assisted Debbie in playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Fiona initiated a tag game in the backyard. Carl opened all of his presents with glee. Even Monica was having a good time, even if she spent most of the day sitting at the table and bouncing their newest family addition Liam Gallagher on her lap, occasionally giving the birthday boy a hug every now and then.

Carl had blown out all of the candles on his cake, and then it was time for dessert. The Gallaghers’ Aunt Stacey had cut the cake for the smaller children first, and then she served herself and the other adults in the yard. She was preparing a plate for Monica when she noticed that she wasn’t there, so Ian volunteered to go find her.

And boy, was Ian the most unlucky soul of the day or what?

Ian hadn’t even made it past the kitchen when he heard very low groans to his left, and the moment he turned his head, the most horrific sight in the world came to view.

Monica was on the kitchen floor, sitting in a little corner by the cabinets. The only problem, though, was that she looked nothing like herself. She was completely pale and almost unresponsive, despite the fact that her groans reached Ian’s ears. Her eyes were barely even moving; they were focused on the fridge and the stove in front of her, as if Ian wasn’t in the room.

A scared, panicked little Ian ran back outside to gather family members back into the house, and when they all arrived, their faces transitioned into the same level of shock and fear that Ian previously had. Lip was the first one to call 9-1-1, and the Gallaghers’ neighbor, Kevin Ball, had volunteered to get down on his knees and assist Monica and to check what was going on. He discovered an orange pill bottle that had been in her possession, hiding in the space between her left hip and the cabinet right next to her.

Monica had swallowed her pills.

Ian hadn’t realized he had been staring at her for as long as he did until he felt a pair of hands grab him and pull him back, one of them caressing Ian’s head as gently as possible. Ian didn’t know Fiona was the one holding him back because his mind was too focused on Monica’s body in his peripheral vision. Why did she go and swallow all of those pills? Why didn’t she notice Ian when he walked in the room? Why was she…so _sad_?

The paramedics were there in about five to ten minutes, some of them asking Monica various questions or for her to move her hand, and others bringing the gurney and other equipment inside the house. The entire Gallagher family and their guests had stepped to the side but watched with worry in their eyes as the EMTs got to work checking for heart beats and doing medical procedure. When nothing worked, they helped her on the stretcher and secured her with the straps so they could get her out of the house safely.

When one of the paramedics asked whether or not anyone would want to ride in the ambulance with her, Ian was the one who volunteered first, but unfortunately, he was declined by Frank, who wanted to join her in the ambulance instead. This alone made Ian completely upset. He didn’t remember too much of his early childhood at the age of twelve years old, but he was told that Frank had abused her so many times before. So why would he give two shits whether or not she made it out of the hospital – hell, out of the ambulance – alive?

Ian protested this notion so many times, but he was then met with one of Frank’s threatening glances that immediately yet reluctantly shut him up. For years, Frank has given him that same look – the look that screamed, “One word out of you, and you’ll instantly regret.” And, out of impulse, Ian obeyed. There were days when he really didn’t want to obey, but he did anyway. There were other days when Frank manipulated him into thinking that their father-son relationship could work out and that Frank really did care about him, and Ian would go blindsided by the real intentions – who Frank Gallagher really was behind the mask. Ian didn’t want to be betrayed or manipulated anymore. He didn’t want to live a life knowing he had a father who truthfully hated him and used him as a prop.

Unfortunately, there was nothing Ian could do about it, because Frank Gallagher was the only person he had. He had his siblings, sure, but none of them were old enough to provide for everyone in the household. Maybe eighteen-year-old Fiona could take care of some more mature tasks, but not enough for Ian to choose her over Frank.

Ian’s stuck with Frank, like Mr. Freeze is stuck with his ice powers, and he fucking hates it. However, that wasn’t even the icing on top of the cake. Hating Frank Gallagher and living underneath his roof is one thing; hating Frank Gallagher, living underneath his roof, and losing Monica was another.

Carl was eight years old when his mother died, though he and Ian dealt with it in different ways. Ian would cry in his twin-sized bed with one of Monica’s sweaters draped around his body every time he had a moment in which she was thinking about her or whenever something Monica-related in the house caught his eye and triggered him. Carl would either hold all of his emotions in or lash out at people when they made him upset. He got even more wreckless now than he was before she died, and not in a good way, either. He and Debbie got into more fights than ever, he never wanted to speak with Lip or Fiona anymore, and he disobeyed Frank whenever he told him to do something. Out of all the Gallagher siblings growing up, he got the most belt-whippings, and he didn’t even care how much he hurt from them anymore.

Frank’s behavior also changed since Monica died, but only for the worst. He drank more alcohol than he ever had, almost passing out on the front porch when he came home late about three days after the funeral. Liam was supposed to have his doctor’s appointment on that day, but no one could take him since Frank’s the only legal parent that could take him there, and Fiona hadn’t learned how to drive yet.

He was also more violent. More aggressive. He always wanted everyone out of his personal space, and if anyone was louder than a whisper during one of his hangovers, he promised he would hit one of them. Fiona would never let Frank hit Liam, though. He was only a baby, and babies couldn’t help it if they cried for their bottles or because their diapers were wet. Besides, Fiona trying to protect the rest of her siblings from getting hurt was hard enough on its own. Protecting Liam from physical and emotional pain was on a whole, new level.

Ian didn’t like it when Frank hit his siblings. Fiona didn’t get hit too often, unless it’s due to Frank being in a drunk stupor and imagining she was Monica instead. Lip got aggregated with him a lot and even asked him to stop doing the things he did because they got on his nerves, but Frank didn’t listen, as usual. A man of the house speech would usually come up, and if Lip got mad enough, he would yell from the top of his lungs until Frank lept at him, wanting to slap the shit out of his face. And every time, it was always Fiona who had to separate the two before things got out of hand.

Frank didn’t hit Debbie as much as he hit Carl or Lip, but when he did try to hurt her, she would cry about it for a few hours following the abuse and then ignore Frank for a day or two until everything died down. She wasn’t like Carl in terms of methods of reacting to trauma, though they both had the keeping quiet thing down. Most of the things she’s witnessed or encountered, she recorded them in a journal – one Monica bought her a few months before her passing – noting her feelings and reactions to every one of Frank’s violent episodes. Usually that journal would be full of little, happy things she’s done throughout the day, like meet a new friend at school or go to someone’s birthday party. Now it’s filled with the dark horror stories of the Gallagher household, which made Ian feel completely disappointed.

If the Gallagher family had happiness once in their life, it sure as hell was taken away from them in the worst of manners. Ian hated how damaged and dysfunctional his family has become, and he only wished he could make it better. He came up with so many scenarios in his head about how he would like to resolve the issues surrounding the family – the ones that Frank usually started. Some of them were definitely doable. He could call DCFS or the police and ask them to do something about Frank, though the main drawback would be sacrificing his brothers and sisters to some new foster parents. He could ask relatives outside of the South Side, or outside of the city, if he and his siblings could stay with them, though their stay wouldn’t be necessarily permanent.

Batman had to be one of Ian’s favorite comic book characters, simply because he’s very mysterious but also cares deeply about the people he saves. He possessed a lot of gadgetry that could be very useful in the situation the Gallagher siblings were stuck in right now. As much as Ian would love that dream to become a reality, he’s unfortunately stuck in a world where Batman – a.k.a. Bruce Wayne – is only a fictional character from the comics and not an actual person.

A world with a superhero getting his family out of the gutter simply wasn’t a world Ian Gallagher could have.

* * *

The child and domestic abuse Frank Gallagher has initiated didn’t just affect Ian himself; it affected his progress in school, as well as his social life. Usually Ian didn’t have a problem with subjects such as History and English, but whenever he would have a bad night at the Gallagher house, in response, he would end up with a bad grade on one of his homework assignments. The worst grade Ian’s ever gotten was a D on one of his History worksheets, and he never got a D in that class.

Classes that were already complicated to begin with, like math and science, were even harder this time around. Ian couldn’t even concentration on scientific notations and binomial equations while his brain circulated around the bruises hidden underneath his hoodie and long-sleeved shirt. His classmates always asked on the warmest days why he wore so many layers, and whether or not he had any short-sleeved shirts in his possession. Ian just responds with, “These just make me feel comfortable.”

Ian knew that was a lie. He had to carry a cold water bottle to class every day to keep himself cool so no one would suspect anything. He tried his hardest to get a seat by the window, but some of his classes had assigned seats, and that made it impossible for Ian to be a little more flexible with his seating arrangements.

Gym had to be the worst class of all. Ian’s body had gotten so weaking from all the punches, slaps, and kicks, and it made it harder for him to move around. It also didn’t help that he had a very strict gym teacher. He treated all of his students as though they were football players. If Ian’s body didn’t go all the way up when the whole class did push-ups, the gym teacher would yell at him and pressure him to push harder. If Ian didn’t run as fast as the other students, he would chase him with a pitch fork and a torch until Ian picked up his feet. If Ian sat on the side while the rest of the class played the selected sport of the week, the gym teacher would drag him off his ass.

Playing basketball during gym class was humiliated for Ian, to say the least. He didn’t have a problem with the sport overall; he just didn’t seem himself as a basketball player. So when he was placed on a team containing forty-eight percent basketball players, he knew he was going to let them down. They all had high expectations for themselves and frowned upon weak links on their team. Ian didn’t want to be the weak link of the group, but from looking at the teams for today’s class, he knew there was no way out of this.

A few minutes into the game – it wasn’t an official game or anything like that, but some of the students liked to keep score – Ian’s team was already losing by three points. The ball had been passed to some of Ian’s other teammates, so he supposes that he’s in the clear for the rest of the game.

Boy, he was so wrong.

He wasn’t paying attention to what was going on before the basketball bounced over in his direction. Ian caught it unexpectedly and suddenly found himself looking around for someone to pass the ball to. A lot of the students were scattered around the court, and Ian had no idea who was on his team and who wasn’t. So without really thinking, he threw the ball over to a guy with a white T-Shirt over some blue gym shorts, and out of nowhere, his teammates were shouting at him angrily while some of them chased after the guy to steal the ball back.

That guy wasn’t on Ian’s team. That’s how he knew he royally fucked up.

And since that day, Ian hasn’t heard the end of it. His classmates came at him whenever they could to call Ian names like Bone Dry and Nerf Noodle, and ridicule him for one little mistake he made. Ian almost didn’t survive the seventh grade knowing that his classmates hated them with their little, black hearts.

Since that day at gym class, Ian’s made a silent vow to keep his head down low and prevent himself from embarrassing himself even further. Sure, participation points in gym class were crucial, but he’d rather not participate at all if it meant that his entire class would focus on something else besides how pitiful he was. However, this also came with the sacrifice of not making any friends at school and, eventually, going through stages of depression. After having his feelings hurt by Frank so many times in his childhood, Ian felt almost used to this feeling, the feeling of no one being there to comfort him and lead him to the brighter days.

Ever since Monica died, Ian’s never seen a sunny day. He’s seen nothing but storm clouds and gloom. The storm clouds would hover over Ian’s head every day and every night, filling Ian’s heart with nothing but sadness. If Monica were still here, he could run to her whenever he wanted to and cry on her shoulder after expressing to her how much of a shitty day he’s had. He would go on for hours and hours about how his whole class hates him just because he messed up his team’s chances at winning a basketball game during their gym class. He would cry on her shoulders and beg her to take him out of that school and to one further away from the South Side so he would have the opportunity to interact with classes full of nicer students. He would punch the pillow on the queen-sized bed inside hers and Frank’s room and then yell into it, asking anyone in or beyond the void why all the bad things happened to him.

But then, Monica would wrap her arms around her son, creating a safe space on her body as she could feel the tears stream down Ian’s face and the heavy, uneven breaths he found difficult to maintain. She would shush him whenever a devastating sob would leave his lips. She would pat his back and rock him back and forth, or side to side, whenever she would feel his body shake. She would make use of that same motherly tone she used with all of her children as she told Ian, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mama’s got you.”

Ian missed the sound of Monica’s voice so much, and it only made him feel even more depressed.

Fiona eventually caught onto some of the signs of Ian’s depression, and she suddenly got concerned for him. Her little brother who used to speak his mind whenever something was troubling him closed himself off from the rest of the world. He didn’t talk to Lip. He didn’t talk to Debbie. He didn’t talk to Carl. He sure as hell never talked to Frank. But unfortunately, he also didn’t talk to Fiona, the one person in the house whom Ian could actually trust. Every time Fiona tried to spark a conversation with him, he would continue to push him away, no matter what it took. After a little while, Fiona reluctantly gave him the space Ian needed, keeping a mental note to at least try to talk to him again later on.

A small piece of Ian wanted Fiona to be there for him. He loves Fiona as much as Fiona loves him. However, there were times in life where love just wasn’t enough to get you out of situations like this. Love couldn’t get the voices out of Ian’s head – all of the evil whispers telling Ian to admit that his classmates were right and that he was nothing more than a waste of space.

Well, it could. There’s a possibility that it could, but the hate thrown at him overpowered the love he was receiving from his family, so maybe that’s why Ian’s feeling completely low.

The truth is, Ian wished he wasn’t born – not into this world full of hatred and darkness and depression. He’s been born into the darkness the moment he was introduced into the care of Frank Gallagher, the worst father to ever walk on the face of the earth. It’s like God told him before he was born that he was destined for this darkness, bound to be restricted from the light. It probably wasn’t true, for all Ian knew, but either way, why would God bring him on this earth to be physically and mentally abused by his father and then verbally harassed by his school? Why did he want him to suffer so much?

Ian’s tired of suffering. Monica’s suffered for so long, and now she’s finally in a better place than this hell. She’s no longer with Frank, and she no longer has to endure the darkness. She’s finally reached the promise land.

Maybe…maybe that’s what Ian needed. Maybe he needed the promise land, too.

Somehow, one of Monica’s pill bottles were still in the bathroom cabinet, and Ian took this opportunity to take them before anyone else noticed. Ian’s hands shook as he stared down at her name printed on the little label on the front. The last time he saw one of her pill bottles was on Carl’s birthday when she committed suicide. She didn’t look happy or anything when she finally decided to kill herself, but maybe she was. Maybe she was internally happy and didn’t want to show it. After being married to Frank for so long and having to walk by his side every step of the way, maybe she was finally relieved to have to cut all ties with that man once and for all.

Ian didn’t like Frank, and he was sure as hell that Frank didn’t like him. Neither one of them really needed each other. The only time Frank needed Ian was so he could sneak his way into getting more money for booze and drugs. He used Ian every chance he could and threw him away when he was done. Ian was sick and tired of being treated like a rag doll, and hopefully he can cut ties with him like Monica did.

The redhead was alone in the bedroom he shared with Lip, Carl, and Liam. His legs were crossed on his twin-sized bed as he stared at the bottle of pills in his hands. This medicine must have done some really powerful shit, after having seen Monica in the state she was in when Ian first found her. Who knows what it would do to Ian?

There was only one way to find out.

Ian screwed open the white top and poured the pills into his hand, and once all of them were secured into the palm of his hand, Ian stared at them, biting his bottom lip and allowing his heart to beat against his chest. He had no idea whether or not the pills would give him a stroke, make him vomit, or whatever the fuck, but after those few moments of struggle, Ian won’t have to worry about anything anymore.

Or he hope he won’t, anyway.

He brought the handful of pills up to his mouth, and the moment the first few slid in between his lips, he heard a shout from his older sister that made him swallow the rest.

“Ian!” Fiona screamed, running to him and holding him by the shoulders. Her little brother couldn’t die. He’s too young to die. He has a whole life ahead of him still. All of those thoughts ran through Fiona’s head as she tried to grab Ian’s attention. “Ian, what did you just take? Ian, answer me!”

The redhead wanted to drown out her voice so badly, so all he did was close his eyes shut and allowed the medicine to do its work. Fiona tried so hard to get Ian’s mouth open so he could vomit the pills out, but he was resisting her touches. He didn’t want Fiona to save her. He loved her very much and wanted nothing more than for her sister to be there for him, but this is what Ian really wanted: to feel at home in Monica’s arms again and to feel like the same, happy little boy he once was.

He’s not happy anymore. He just wants to die.

Ian could faintly hear Fiona shouting to Lip in the other room, asking him to call 9-1-1 and to hurry before Ian closed his eyes. Ian didn’t want them getting help; he wanted them to leave him alone so he could pass away in actual peace. All he needed to do was to close his eyes and allow the medicine to do the work, but for some reason, another part of him tried obeying Fiona’s pleas to stay awake until the paramedics actually showed up.

But Ian longed to regain his happiness, and he wouldn’t get it if he stayed on earth for a day longer to suffer through the villains of the world. So slowly, but surely, Ian closed his eyes, seeing nothing but pitch black.

* * *

When Ian woke up a while later, he was staring up at the white ceiling up above. This didn’t look like heaven, which most likely meant that the paramedics were able to save him before he passed away.

Great. The one time Ian didn’t want anyone being his fucking Superman, and they do so anyway.

Ian wanted to close his eyes once again, but the lights were too bright in the room, which kept him from getting some more rest. He hated this. He didn’t want to be in the hospital. He wanted to go home, and home was right in Monica’s arms where Ian always belonged, not here on earth where a mad man just as abusive as the Joker threw him around like a goddamn chew toy.

Suddenly, a doctor entered the room and acknowledged the redhead as he glanced over his exhausted body. He was speaking to Ian as though he were a delicate vase or something that could tip over the edge and break. Ian couldn’t see what his face looked like now, but the doctor – and his siblings upon bringing him to the hospital – probably believed he looked like shit.

And Ian probably wouldn’t doubt it, either.

The looks on his siblings’ faces when they entered the hospital room were even worse. Debbie and Carl were standing a little farther away than Ian would have liked, and every time Lip tried opening his mouth to speak, he sounded as though Ian was a little kid again. Fiona had dried tears on her cheeks, and her eyes looked almost completely red. She must have cried a lot, according to Ian, which instantly made him feel a little guilty. He had no intentions of hurting Fiona, but Ian was just tired of getting hurt by other people. Was that too much to understand?

Speaking of getting hurt by other people, Frank didn’t even bother to show up at the hospital to see Ian. Turns out, Fiona and Lip took Carl, Debbie, and Liam with them on the CTA train. Wherever Frank had been during Ian’s hospital stay – at the Alibi Room, in an alleyway, in a ditch – Ian didn’t give a shit. That just proved just how much Frank really didn’t care for his son, which confirmed every thought that’s been swimming around in Ian’s brain.

The doctor recommended for Ian to stay in the hospital for a few days following his suicide attempt so professionals could keep an eye on him. Ian appreciated the fact that he got to stay away from Frank for a little while, but at the same time, he hated this place. People just kept coming in his room and asking him how he was feeling. Ian didn’t know how he felt, so sometimes, he wouldn’t have an answer for them. Other times, he knew how he felt, but he didn’t want to share it with them. The doctors continued to encourage him to speak about it in the therapeutic groups set up in the hospital or in a writing journal, if he didn’t want to talk about it out loud.

So that’s what he did. He wrote all of his frustrations in his journal. He wrote about how he was feeling the first time he saw Monica get abused by Frank. He wrote about how he wished he did something to help Monica fight off her demons. He wrote about how the Gallagher family used to be a happy family before Frank turned into an evil alcoholic. He wrote about how Monica sometimes cried in the kitchen or on her bed whenever she thought about Frank laying a hand on her. He wrote about the days when Ian sat down with her and comforted her, and how she did the same thing for him. He wrote about hearing Monica’s sweet, motherly voice and how much he missed it. He wrote about the day of Carl’s birthday party and how she committed suicide in the kitchen while everyone else was outside. He wrote about how pale Monica looked when he saw her and how terrified he was to see her in such a state. He wrote about wanting to ride in the ambulance with her but only getting rejected by Frank. He wrote about how she died in the hospital without Ian giving her one last goodbye.

And the more he wrote about Monica’s suicide and Frank’s domestic violence against her and the rest of the family, the more tears that continued to fall down Ian’s face. All of it seemed to lead up to the day Ian got humiliated at school and the days following it, which turned into some of the worst days of Ian’s life. The more Ian wrote, the worst off he continued to feel. He didn’t want to live on this earth knowing that his mother’s dead, his father doesn’t give a shit about him, and people outside his family only see him as a joke.

Ian’s therapist eventually read the things he wrote in his notebook and addressed him about them. Turns out that the Gallagher siblings weren’t the only one who wanted Ian to go. The two of them have had sessions with each other almost every day until they led to a solution the therapist wanted to try.

“Do you have a favorite hobby, Ian?”

Other than collecting and reading comic books, Ian didn’t have too many hobbies. Writing started being a regular thing for Ian since he’s been in the hospital, but he wouldn’t necessarily call it a hobby per se. A part of the reason why Ian made comic book collecting a hobby was all due to his mother.

Ian was seven years old when he got his first comic book. Monica used to purchase stuffed animals and action figures of characters from his favorite comic book universes. Monica figured that Ian was old enough to delve deeper into the stories that were being told in these comic book universes, which prompted her to head out and buy him a copy of _JLA: Volume 1, No. 78_. She didn’t know anything about it, really; she just chose a random comic book from off one of the shelves and thought Ian would like it, from what she told him at the time.

He did like it. In fact, he more than liked it; he loved it very much.

The book Monica bought for Ian featured the heroic adventures of the Justice League of America, which consisted of Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Atom, Major Disaster, Faith, and Green Lantern. The moment Ian’s eyes landed on the first couple of pages, he was mesmerized by the imagery on each panel on each page. Whether he read the story aloud or to himself, he could immediately feel himself being sucked into their world, fighting against the mirror matter that became a threat to the galaxy. He learned so much from the descriptions and details. He learned about anatomical matter, theoretical mass, and all of the scientific jargon the writers of these comics included. Sure, Ian was young at the time, but he’s a fast learner as well, so understanding these concepts weren’t too hard. Sometimes he would ask Monica to interpret terms in the story, or he would ask her to take him to the library so they could look it up together. Ian always had a way around learning the ins and outs of his comic book, because he’s a very passionate reader.

The therapist was intrigued to learn more about Ian’s comic-collecting hobby and suggested that he should go back to doing that. Granted, the last comic book Ian received was about a month before Carl’s birthday. He and Monica used to have a reward system where, if Ian got A’s on all of his homework assignments, Monica would purchase a new comic book for him at the end of the month. They’ve had that same system since Ian’s obsession with comics started to grow in the second grade, and it worked really well…

That is, until Monica became depressed again and encountered the wrath of Frank Gallagher once more.

Ian didn’t want to think about Frank anymore. He didn’t even want to live in the same house with him, but there was unfortunately nothing for him to do about it.

Fuck.

Ian did take his therapist’s advice about the comic books, though, when he was released from the hospital. He needed all the alone time he could possibly get. On some days, like the couple of days following his hospital stay, Fiona and Lip kept tabs on him in the event that Ian could try and kill himself again, although Ian promised them both that he wouldn’t. It was annoying, but Ian got why they did it.

Still, the older Ian got, the more he preferred being alone with his thoughts than to discuss them with other people. Maybe most of it had to with being threatened by Frank a couple of times in the past. He scolded Ian for putting him against the rest of the family. He called him a disgrace of a son – or not a son at all, depending on how severe his mood really was. Ian was really tired of Frank’s bullshit, but he also didn’t want to get separated from his family because of what’s going on behind closed doors. So he kept all of the negative thoughts he had about Frank in the notebook he was provided by his therapist and dove back into the world of superheroes and comic book mayhem to keep him distracted. The characters in these stories are going through situations far worse than what Ian’s going through in real life, but that’s the good thing about comic books and other forms of media: the events that occur in them are fictional. Hell, in some instances, Ian could change the story however he wants to – or, even better, make up a story of his own.

The deeper Ian had gotten into the fictional world, the more he seemed to forget about how angry he really was with Frank, which, to him, was very therapeutic. He even believed it could help some of his siblings. Fiona and Lip were a little older than him and indulged into more mature activities, and comic books and superheroes might not be Debbie’s cup of tea.

But for Carl and even Liam, it might work.

* * *

Fifteen-year-old Ian decided to try his methods out on one of Carl’s very low days. Apparently he had gotten in trouble by Frank once again, earning some bruised marks on his little arms, because Frank’s hobby of hitting his children never got old. Carl stormed in the boys’ bedroom and hid underneath the covers, wanting to shut everyone out completely and just go to bed.

Ian felt bad that, after all these years, Carl is still the punching bag of the family. Debbie grew more mature with time and eventually came up with tactics or life hacks on how to avoid Frank at all costs. Lip and Fiona, being the two eldest siblings in the household, didn’t get hit anymore. And Liam’s still the youngest in the family, though Ian’s not praying for his time in the spotlight with Frank to come anytime soon.

The redhead watched as Carl rolled around underneath his bed sheets from the other side of the room, listening to the sounds of rain patting the window, along with a few of Carl’s sniffles. He never got this emotional whenever Frank hit him, which surprised Ian a little bit. He would get angry, sure, but he didn’t cry that much. Seeing Frank hit Monica and his other siblings must have made him toughen up emotionally all this time and only bring himself back down to earth when no one’s watching.

Except now, Ian’s the one watching.

“Carl?” Ian called, but not above a whisper.

“Leave me alone,” Carl cried, bringing the covers further up his head, if that were even possible. Ian gulped in response. There’s a significant difference between the younger Carl Gallagher and the one lying down in his bed in front of Ian. Back then, Carl was happier and more carefree. He looked as though he semi-tried to enjoy his childhood, and now that he’s gotten somewhat of an understanding of what’s been going on in the Gallagher household, he’s been completely sucked into the darkness. The darkness made Carl a much darker person in general. All of his bad behavior recently wasn’t all for nothing. What else was a young boy in a broken home supposed to do when he felt like he had no one else and was feeling defenseless?

Ian’s felt like that for so long, and while he wanted to get away from this place to find freedom, he knew he couldn’t physically do that – not after what he almost put his siblings through. There is a possible way for Ian to escape reality, though, and he was more than willing to help Carl try it out.

A few seconds later, Ian elected to crawl out of his bed with his issue of _Aquaman: Vol. #6 No. 2_ , carefully stepping closer to Carl’s bed and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Carl?” The younger boy shrugged Ian’s hand away but didn’t respond. Instead of waiting on Carl to verbally reply, Ian spoke up. “I got an Aquaman comic the other day. Can I read it to you?”

“I don’t wanna read comics today, Ian.” Carl groaned.

“You don’t have to read them,” Ian explained. “I will, and you can just listen.” Carl was reluctant about doing so at first, but then he suddenly gave in knowing that Ian possibly wouldn’t give up on him anytime soon if Carl didn’t allow him to read.

Once Carl made enough space for Ian to sit, the redhead sat down on Carl’s bed, adjusting his body so he was comfortable before he opened his comic back to the first page. He was a few pages ahead in the comic already, but for the sake of reading the issue for Carl, he decided to start over.

“Ready?” Ian asked him. Carl shrugged. He didn’t seem too interested in letting Ian read to him today. Ian tried to incorporate all of the things Monica did for him into the reading to make Carl feel somewhat comfortable. Ian knew he wouldn’t sound or act exactly like Monica, but that wasn’t the intention here. All he cared about was calming his brother down and having him focus on something else other than Frank.

And Carl did just that the moment Ian began to speak, both of the boys’ eyes on the first page. “Poised in the here and now,” Ian began. “Turning to face a hidden world. Plunging into an ocean of pure possibility. Swimming in a secret sea.” Ian continued to read, holding the book up for Carl to see where he was reading, along with the photos drawn on each page, and the deeper they both got into the story, the more intrigued Carl seemed to get. He wasn’t on the same level of excitement with comic books and superheroes as his older brother was, but to know he was opening to learning more about them made Ian reading to him a whole lot easier.

“Aqua-Man has a hand made of water?” Carl asked as they made it to the next page in the book.

“Yep,” Ian answered. “It’s his water bearer hand. It has a lot of powers.”

“Really? What kind?”

“He can make magic with it,” Ian listed off first, “and he can also kill people with it. All he has to do is touch them, and they die.”

“Like that one guy with all the gold Monica told us about?”

“King Midas? Yeah, but Aqua-Man can control it more than he can.”  Carl nodded, slowly processing the newfound information. “You’ll find out more once we finish reading,” Ian added, and he continued to read aloud, Carl scooting a little closer just to see the words a little clearly. Ian’s heart started to beat a little faster, because his younger brother was getting more engaged, and any rage he felt for Frank seemed to evaporate, for now. He and Carl both knew that Frank would eventually do something to piss Carl off again, but for the time being, this was a nice change from their normal, daily routine.

Thinking about suffering from Frank’s bullshit and calling it _normal_ and _daily_ sent shivers down Ian’s spine, but he thankfully pushed those thoughts to the side.

Eventually, Ian and Carl had comic book readings every night. Only so much time has passed since Ian started reading the Aqua-Man comics to Carl, but his younger brothers always wanted to know what happened next, whether Aqua-Man would suffer at the hands of one of his most notable villains, whether or not the citizens he was to rescue would suffer as well. Not just that, but Carl just grew to love Aqua-Man as a character in general and all of his powers and abilities. Although Aqua-Man wasn’t Ian’s number one favorite hero, he had to agree on all the pinpoints Carl made as they read more of the comics.

One day, they ran out of Aqua-Man comics, so Ian searched through his comic book stash and pulled out some Daredevil ones for Carl to look at. The first set of comic books Ian showed Carl were from the DC universe; it was only fair for Ian to present to him some of the ones he collected from the Marvel universe as well.

“Spider-man went blind?” Carl asked curiously as Ian turned the page to the next scene.

Ian nodded. “There was this opti-blast stuff that one of the bad guys gave him that made him go blind.”

“Do you think there’s a cure for that stuff?”

“Well, the stuff’s not real.”

“But if it was, do you think that could be cured?”

Ian shrugged. “Possibly.” He looked down on the page of the book they left off on for a second before looking back up at Carl. “Daredevil’s gonna help him, though. You’ll see.”

All of their reading sessions were the same. Carl had a bunch of questions swirling around in his head concerning the heroes and antagonists, and the two brothers would discuss it in between reading sections of the story. Sometimes the two of them came up with their own theories as to what could happen to each of the characters by the time they’re done reading the books for a certain character. Other times, they would watch the movies and compare them to the comics themselves. It made perfect bonding time, according to Ian. Before all of this, he and Carl didn’t interact that much, unless Ian was just playing big brother and getting Carl to cooperate like Monica used to tell him.

 _Used to_. Shit. Ian will never not hurt from words and phrases like that.

With time, Carl became as big of a comic book fan as Ian was. He even wanted some of the books and movies Ian had in his stash, and Ian was willing to allow Carl to borrow both. Ian smiled as Carl reread all of the Iron Man comics Ian had in his collection. Iron Man might be Carl’s favorite hero.

Fiona caught on to Ian and Carl’s bonding moments sometimes. When she washed the dishes after dinner, she would turn her head for a second to see Carl holding one of Ian’s comic books and flipping through the page until he found something confusing or exciting he wanted to tell Ian about. Fiona’s heart warmed up to see Ian and Carl acting like brothers again and not letting outside problems split them apart. At least it felt somewhat family-oriented in the Gallagher house again.

There were even times when Ian and Carl pulled Fiona into the fun they were having. Carl eventually joined Ian in getting the comic book-themed T-Shirts and whatnot he could get from clothing stores and the mall, and on days when Frank wasn’t up to much, he would ask Fiona to play Nerf games with him. He managed to convince Ian and Lip to join him and Fiona in having a tournament every weekend. Carl came up with the idea to have two teams, each member wearing some kind of DC or Marvel merchandise, and Ian volunteered to bring some stuff for his siblings to wear.

Fiona and Carl were on one team. Carl had on an Iron Man helmet he had gotten from Ian for Christmas, along with a Captain America T-Shirt. Ian lent Fiona his Iron Man shirt so she would have something Marvel-related to wear. Meanwhile, Ian and Lip were on another team. Ian slipped on a plain, black T-Shirt and tied his black and yellow Batman cape around his neck. He gave Lip a red Superman cape and a short-sleeved Superman T-Shirt for him to wear.

Once everyone had their gear on, they would start the game, splitting up and hiding around the house. The game started off on a really good note. Ian’s heart was racing as he tip-toed around the house just to find Fiona and attack her with the foam Nerf bullets. The four Gallagher siblings were a giggling mess as they met eyes for a second before one of them ran off to chase the other. This was the most fun they’ve had as a family in years, it seemed like. Even Fiona was feeling as though she could be a kid again, and she’s been under stress for years, trying to care for her younger siblings and make sure they’re all in one piece.

Although Debbie wasn’t as big of a fan of comic books as Ian and Carl were, she still loved the Nerf games and eventually joined in as a fifth member. Since Liam was too little to play with the five of them, he unfortunately couldn’t be placed on an actual team. Still, he had fun helping Fiona look around the house for their other siblings, who tried to stay as quiet as they possibly could so Fiona wouldn’t find them.

Their Nerf tournaments became a weekly tradition, assuming that Frank would be out of the house for most of the day. On some days, he would be too passed from all of the alcohol he had the previous night to even do anything, which placed the Gallagher kids at an advantage, but they’d rather be safe than sorry. It was for the best.

Still, Ian loved all of the new changes that were occurring within the Gallagher family. These were excellent improvements from what they’ve experienced within the past seven years or so. They were actually a family again, with or without Frank, though Ian would prefer to be a family without him. From the bottom of Ian’s heart, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

Ian was sixteen years old when he discovered the Chicago Comic and Entertainment Expo. It’s basically like Comic Con in San Diego, California, but it’s a lot smaller, and there were a lot less celebrity guests. Ian would like to go to a San Diego Comic Con one day, but for now, he was excited that he and his siblings were going to C2E2 instead.

When Ian first discovered C2E2, he didn’t even think he and the rest of his family could actually go. The venue was somewhere in downtown Chicago, and passes for it cost a lot of money – a lot more than what the Gallaghers could acquire in such little time. Unbeknownst to him, though, Fiona and Lip had been planning the trip for years. Fiona unfortunately had to drop out of high school in order to provide for her family anyway, seeing as how Frank didn’t have a steady job and constantly drank his brain cells away every day. The more Fiona learned about Ian’s obsession with comic books and superheroes, the more she wanted to do for him as a present. All this time, though, she didn’t have a clue as to what she wanted to do; Ian was getting too old for the action figures, and she was sure Ian bought out an entire comic book-themed clothing store.

So she did some digging through the internet, and the moment her eyes laid on a photo of someone standing in a red, white, and black C2E2 shirt, she couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. She worked extra hours at her job, placing about twenty to thirty percent of her earnings aside for Chicago Comic Expo and the rest inside the squirrel fund the Gallaghers used for groceries and other necessities. Lip eventually caught onto Fiona’s little plan and wanted to chip in. Together, Lip and Fiona raised more than enough they needed within about a couple of months to about a year or so – enough to purchase about three passes. Surely both Carl and Ian would have passes to go and some extra money to buy comics and souvenirs, but Lip and Fiona had to decide who the third person would be.

“Can’t we just try to get some more money for a few more passes?” Lip suggested as the two siblings were standing in the hallway alone.

“There’s not enough time for that, Lip,” Fiona explained. “We only have five more days.”

“I could work an extra couple of shifts and give you whatever I have.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Fiona replied, shaking her head at him. She really appreciated how helpful Lip was being, but in all honesty, Lip was going to need that money for college or something sooner or later. Finance-wise, the Gallagher family was nowhere near stable, and with an alcoholic father by their side, their chances of any of them getting solid financial aid in college – assuming they all went to college – would be very slim. “Just go with Ian and Carl, okay?” Fiona suggested. “I can stay with Debbie and Liam. It’s fine.”

“You sure, Fiona?” Lip asked her. “You can go with them, if you want. You kinda deserve some kind of break, you know. Plus, this whole thing was your idea.”

“I know,” Fiona responded, running a hand through her brunette hair. “This whole thing’s mainly for Ian, though, and Carl, too. I just want those two to have some fun, you know?” Lip nodded. “Besides, I’m not that into comic books like they are, and the three of you could make it a Guys Day Out or something like that?”

Lip laughed a little at the Guys Day Out suggestion from his sister. The Gallagher boys never really had anything like that, and Lip wouldn’t even consider the times Frank took them to the Alibi Room when he was alone with them when they were little. Frank was the only person who benefitted from those kinds of days, while Lip, Ian, and Carl sat somewhere to the side, minding their own business until Frank wanted to leave, which was never.

Lip isn’t as much of a fan of comic books and superheroes as Ian and Carl, either, but he liked hanging out with them enough to want to take a trip away from the Gallagher household. Fiona could be right; this trip might be more fun than he would expect.

“We could, couldn’t we?” Lip asked after a moment of silence, and Fiona nodded in agreement.

The two of them entered the boys’ bedroom and, sure enough, Ian was sitting on his twin-sized bed, listening to music through his headphones and casually reading one of the recent issues of _Black Panther: Volume #5_ when the sounds of his siblings entering the room caused him to look up. He slipped the headphones off his head and let it rest against his neck. “Oh, hey guys,” he greeted as he placed his torn strip of notebook paper in between the pages he left off on as a placeholder, closing the book and giving Fiona and Lip his attention. “What’s up?”

“We actually have a surprise for you,” Fiona started, clapping both of her hands together.

“Is Frank dying yet?” Ian asked the two of them. “Or getting arrested?”

“Shit, I wish,” Lip answered, moving a couple of other comic books to the side so he could sit down on the bed with his younger brother.

“I’m probably not interested then,” Ian responded with a disappointed slump of his shoulders.

“Not even interested in a comic book expo downtown this weekend?” Fiona asked, a grin slowly appearing on her face as she pulled out a printed copy of the C2E2 website, along with a few passes to get in that had been sent in the mail. Her smile only grew as Ian immediately pounced in her direction, trying to get a better look at them to make sure he wasn’t actually dreaming.

He wasn’t. Fiona actually got the passes for C2E2. They were right there before Ian’s very eyes. Ian thought he’d never see the day he’d get to go to a comic book convention, but that day has finally come, and he hasn’t felt so alive in what feels like forever.

“Oh, my God!” Ian exclaimed as he held one of the passes in his hand, and Lip and Fiona glanced at each other for a second to give each other a nod. “Is this for real?”

“Yep.”

“But how did you get the passes?” Ian asked, looking in between Fiona and Lip for some form of answer.

“It took us a little while,” Fiona explained, turning to Lip and watching him nod in agreement before turning back to Ian. “Maybe…a few months. A year or so –“

“Oh, Fiona,” Ian interrupted her. “You guys didn’t have to do all of that for me.”

“We wanted to,” Lip spoke up, and Ian whirled his head around so his eyes would meet his brother’s. “You can pretty much make a library or something with all of the comic books you have, and we know how much you love reading about all of the superheroes and stuff in each one –“

“And…you know,” Fiona added, “you’ve have a rough couple of years so far.” She shrugged. “Out of all of us, I think you’ve had it the hardest growing up.” Ian nodded slowly, some early memories replaying in his head as Fiona continued to speak. “I mean, your comic book obsession started when Monica was still around, you know what I mean?” Ian nodded again. “She’s really special to all of us, yeah, but I know she meant the most to you.”

That was definitely true. Ian loved Monica and everything she did for him before she died. She was the sweetest woman to ever walk on the face of the earth, and for Ian to watch her go on a downward spiral to depression and suicide hurt Ian so much. She was so willing to be taken out of her misery and to leave Frank behind, but she also left her kids behind, which was just as worse. Ever since Ian started getting bullied in high school, he found it harder to really tolerate living and taking up so much space. Now, he occasionally goes to therapy and takes advice from the therapists every once in a while. He still has his moments where he feels down, but they aren’t as severe as four years ago. He has moments where he thinks about Monica and wanting to be with her, but he’s not hurting himself like he tried to do so four years ago.

“And it’s your first convention, too,” Lip added, breaking Ian from his thoughts, and Fiona nodded. “You’ve never been to one of those before.”

“Right,” Ian replied.

“And, even better,” Fiona chimed in. “It’ll be a boys trip with you, Lip, and Carl. All three of you get to have some fun and do whatever you want.”

“We raised enough money for souvenirs and stuff, too, if you wanted to get anything from there,” Lip stated. “Granted, we don’t know how much all of that stuff costs, but –“

He was immediately interrupted when he felt his little brother’s arms wrap around his upper body, bringing Lip into a giant hug. Lip could feel the corners of his mouth tug up at how happy Ian really was. He hugged Ian back with one arm and looked up as he saw Fiona smile with her hand over her mouth, like she saw a newborn puppy for the first time in years. The two of them have worried about Ian for so long. So to see Ian getting the break he needed made them both feel extremely relieved.

Their little brother’s going to the Chicago Comic Expo, and he couldn’t have wished for anything more than that.


	2. When Ian Met Mickey

The day of C2E2 officially came, and Ian found himself waking up early in the morning just to get ready. Yesterday, it was all that was on his mind. How many people would actually be there? What are all the booths gonna look like? Who’s going to cosplay as what characters? Ian’s excitement grew the more he thought about these little questions in his head. He’s always wanted to go to a comic convention, but he’s never had the money to go. He worked at a corner store for some money for himself – and a portion of it going to the squirrel fund, of course – but he’s never had enough to actually purchase a pass to go. Now that he, Carl, and Lip were going to C2E2 today, he’ll experience first-hand what a Chicago comic convention actually looks like. He would have liked to cosplay as one of his favorite comic book characters, had he known a little earlier that he was actually going, but maybe another time, when he earns enough money for himself, he’ll have a chance to do so.

This morning, though, Ian elected to slip on a plain, white T-Shirt, a Superman hoodie, some dark blue jeans, and some black Converses. When he was finished getting ready, he left the bedroom to allow Carl and Liam to get a little more sleep, running down the stairs to grab himself some breakfast.

Fiona was preparing everyone’s breakfast behind the counters, while Frank was already seated at the table, reading the morning newspaper. Ian ignored the man in favor of walking over to his sister. “Mornin’,” he greeted her, allowing her to wrap her arms around him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Mornin’, pumpkin,” Fiona whispered, patting Ian on top of his head lightly, careful as to not mess up his freshly-combed hair. “How’d you sleep?”

“Didn’t. Couldn’t stop thinking about today.” Fiona smiled as she prepared his eggs, bacon, and pancakes on a plate for him. This is the happiest Fiona’s ever seen Ian in a while, and it was a change in the positive direction for at least one of the Gallagher siblings. Fiona honestly couldn’t wait for the boys to return from the event so she could hear Ian describe every detail he noticed in the cosplay costumes, the comic book covers, and whatever else he could find.

Ian retrieved his plate of food Fiona before making his way to the table, sitting as far away from Frank as possible. He didn’t do anything upon Ian entering the room, aside from skimming through the section that talked about the gentrification in the South Side of Chicago. Truth is, Frank didn’t have to do anything at all; no matter what, Ian will always have this pit in his stomach that’s dedicated towards hating Frank Gallagher and his entire being, and it will get interrupted the moment the old man is even mentioned or referred to. Ian hated the feeling his stomach received just from thinking about Frank alone; thank goodness he had a lot to focus on to keep him off his mind.

The moment Ian was about to dig into his stack of pancakes, he heard Frank grumble in front of him, and when he began to open his mouth, Ian mentally prepared himself for the shit storm that awaited him next. “And what’s today again?”

“The boys are going out,” Fiona responded vaguely, shooting daggers in the back of her head as she prepared two more plates. According to her, Frank didn’t deserve to be let in on any of the Gallagher family plans anymore, considering that all Frank managed to do whenever he’s around his children is to use them for his own benefit. Not one time did Debbie or Carl assist Frank with the lemonade service – which was originally Debbie’s before Frank decided to selfishly take over due to his overdue tabs from the Alibi Room – did Frank seem to care about Debbie’s needs more than his own. He never cared about any of the kids’ needs anymore, and with that, Fiona declared that none of the kids should even bother giving a shit about Frank as well. Car, the second youngest Gallagher in the clan, seems to forget sometimes whenever Frank tends to manipulate him to fix his own problems, but at the end of the day Fiona, Lip, and even Ian drive him back in the right direction.

Frank turned around in his seat to face his eldest daughter, looking somewhat offended. “And no one thought to tell me?”

“No, because this is a family outing for the boys,” Fiona replied, “and I’m not gonna let practically one of the best days of their lives get ruined because your drunk ass humped a clueless Spider-Man in the middle of the venue.” Ian pressed his lips together, preventing himself from laughing out loud and causing Frank to turn back around to him again. He couldn’t help himself; Fiona had some of the best responses to Frank’s bullshit questions.

Fiona and Frank kept at their conversation as Lip came downstairs, semi-dressed into a plain, grey T-Shirt and his dark blue pair of boxer shorts. Without paying much attention to Frank, he grabbed his plate from off the counter next to Fiona and walked over towards the empty seat next to Ian. The two brothers gave each other a knowing look as Lip sat down. They pretty much knew Frank well enough at this point without the need to question what he was even talking about.

“You think Batman has some gadget in his lair or some shit that’ll shut him up?” Lip whispered to Ian, making sure Frank wasn’t paying attention to them.

“Bat cave,” Ian corrected. “And he pretty much has everything else, so I wouldn’t be surprised.” The brothers silently giggled a bit before Frank turned back around in his seat, prompting the two boys to dig into their food.

The kitchen got a little quiet for about three seconds before Frank stood up in his seat, his chair scraping against the tile floor. “Well,” he sighed loudly, and Ian tried to do whatever he could to ignore him some more while he was still here. “I guess I’m off.”

“Alibi?” Fiona didn’t even have to guess; this shit was a routine, at this point.

“Since you choose to not feed your old man.”

“My old man who should be responsible for himself and his own kids,” Fiona reminded him. All Frank did in response was grumble something about doing all he could for us _ungrateful kids_ , earning an eyeroll from Fiona and a cold stare from Lip. Once Frank stumbled out of the kitchen and into the living room, Debbie, Carl, and Liam all came downstairs, ready to eat the food Fiona had prepared for them.

“Good morning, monkeys,” Fiona greeted them, kissing Liam on top of the head and taking him out of Debbie’s grasp. She suddenly got lost in the little boy in her arms as Carl and Debbie retrieved their breakfast from off the counter. Ian figured that was one of the best things about having Liam in the house. The middle children in the family usually get envious of the younger additions to the family, and while the Gallaghers were no stranger to that, they were also glad to have Liam when they were having very low days. Liam’s just this tiny ball of sunshine and excitement for all of them; it made the Gallaghers actually grateful that Monica brought him home.

After Carl grabbed his food, he eagerly went to sit next to his brothers. “How many people do you think’s gonna be there?” he asked as he put some eggs into his mouth.

“A lot,” Lip answered.

“How much is a lot?”

“Uh…over a thousand, I guess? Two thousand?”

“That’s why I want you guys to stay together,” Fiona spoke all of a sudden, bringing her food to the table to sit in between Debbie and Lip. Her eyes fell upon Carl as she lifted an eyebrow at him. “That includes you, mister.”

“Don’t worry about him,” Lip told Fiona. “We’re gonna be fine.”

The Gallaghers stretched the convention conversation out for a little while longer until Debbie elected to change the subject. However, the convention was all that was on Ian’s mind right now. There had to be more people at the convention than people in his high school, and that made Ian feel a little bit overwhelmed. He was still excited about the event itself, but he could only wonder what would happen with such a crowded building. Would he be able to get to all of the places he wanted to go? What if something really did happen to Carl while they were out and about? Would Fiona be mad at the end of the day if she were to find out?

Ian shook his head a little bit, freeing himself of his own thoughts. He’s overthinking this. Nothing’s going to happen to them. They’re going to all of the booths they can get to before the day’s over. They’re going to check out all of the comic books they had for them to see. They’re going to meet the people at the panels. They’re going to see a bunch of people dressed as different comic book characters. Most importantly, they’re going to have a really great time.

Well, Ian hopes so anyway.

* * *

The three brothers had all gotten on the bus headed to McCormick Place. They chose to sit somewhere in the middle of the bus, Lip in a seat with a stranger, and Ian and Carl sitting together. As the bus got closer and closer to McCormick Place, Ian noticed that there were some cosplayers getting on with their costumes on. There was a girl with a Batgirl costume and two guys who dressed as Red and Green Arrow, respectively. The trio headed towards the back of the bus, and Ian took the next couple of seconds to look back and admire their costumes a little bit more. One of these days, Ian will go to a comic book convention and dress up just like those guys were. Until then, he was going to have to do with his comic book-themed street clothes, though they weren’t that bad, either.

A couple more bus stops later, and the Gallagher boys were across the street from McCormick place. They, along with a bunch of other people planning on going to the convention, got off the bus and prepared to cross the street. At this point, Ian was jumpy from the excitement that was building up inside him. He’s actually here. He’s actually at his first comic book convention. Fiona and Lip both helped him get here, and he couldn’t be anymore grateful.

Ian made a mental note to pay Fiona and Lip back for what they did. He swears he has the best older siblings in the world.

Lip stopped the trio to hand them their day passes. Carl held his in his hand, observing the designs and everything on it, and Ian slipped his in his pocket. The three of them were about to head inside to join everyone else when Ian heard Carl say, “Whoa, check it out. It’s Deadpool.” Ian’s eyes followed Carl’s daze and found a nicely-built older man with a red and black Deadpool costume on but with the mask in his hand. He was posing with a woman’s five-year-old son who was dressed as Spider-Man.

The three of them finally made it over to the front entrance, and as they walked through the double doors, they took in the atmosphere of the inside of McCormick Place. There were more people here than any of them predicted. Hell, there were a bunch of people between the three of them and the staircase alone. It’s no wonder Fiona wanted them to stay together.

Ian’s eyes fell to the left as he noticed a family of six. The mother and the father were both Elastigirl and Mr. Incredible respectively, their costumes complete with the red and black jump suits with the yellow belts around their waists and the Incredibles symbol in the center of their chests. The eldest son had on Syndrome’s black and white jump suit with the big, white letter S on the front. The girl had her hair dyed black like Violet did and had on the same matching uniform her parents had. The youngest son had his hair styled like Dash’s hair and, like his parents and older sister, had on the red, black, and yellow Incredibles outfit. Their youngest child – their baby girl – seemed as though she wanted to dress as something else aside from the rest of the family, seeing as how she had on an Olaf onesie on instead of the baby Incredibles outfit for Jack Jack. Ian couldn’t help but think about amazing the family looked, regardless of who wore what. If Ian didn’t know better, he’d say they were the real Incredibles just because of how close they all seemed.

He really wished Fiona, Debbie, and Liam could be here. Maybe they all couldn’t have the same matching costumes they did, but they would look good cosplaying regardless. Ian could imagine Lip going as Lex Luthor, Carl going as Robin, Fiona going as Catwoman, Debbie going as Poison Ivy, and Liam as Kid Flash. And Ian would probably go as the Riddler or the Joker, two of his favorite comic book villains.

All of his siblings would look very good cosplaying for the convention, if they were all here for it.

“Ian,” the redhead heard Lip say from a distance. He had been so busy watching the other family and thinking about his own that he didn’t notice Lip and Carl started walking ahead of him. He ran over to them and followed them up the stairs until they got to the main floor of the building. He noticed Carl turning his head every which way and taking in the atmosphere. There were so many people who took the time and the opportunity to get their costumes to look precisely like the ones they had been reading up on for years. They all looked so good, and it was blowing the brunet’s mind.

“We should have dressed up for this,” Carl spoke as he breathlessly eyed a girl who dressed up like Pikachu. “I wanna go as the Hulk.” Ian smiled. He was glad that he wasn’t the only one who agreed on dressing up as something for the convention, even though Carl’s costume choice was different from Ian’s.

“Maybe next time, kiddo,” Lip replied.

“You sure there will be a next time?” Carl did raise a good point. The Gallaghers weren’t necessarily financially stable, so the chances of them going again next year were pretty low.

Lip shrugged as he and his brothers got into the very long line leading to the main room where all of the booths were. “We’ll see.”

The line was incredibly long, which served as a disadvantage to the three Gallagher boys. Ian wondered what would have happened if they showed up a little earlier than they did. They would have to miss out on the breakfast Fiona graciously made, but at least they wouldn’t have to wait fifteen minutes just to get their passes and pockets checked. As the line got a little bit shorter, Lip checked Carl’s pockets to see if there weren’t any weapons or anything hiding in there. The boy really had a knack for doing outrageous shit like that, and Lip and Ian didn’t want to raise the chances of them getting kicked out because Carl had a pocket knife in his pants. The last time something like that happened when the Gallaghers went out, and he and Fiona were almost banned from Navy Pier.

They all went through the metal detectors one at a time and then allowed the female security guard to pat them down for any weapons or suspicious belongings before they were free to walk through the metal-bar maze to get to the booths near the middle of the room. Ian couldn’t believe how tall some of these booths were. It would probably take four or five Lip clones to get to the top of the one with the DC and Marvel-themed T-Shirts.

Ian was speechless. He loved this place already, and he hasn’t even been here for longer than half an hour. He wanted to go to every booth and see what they had, but there’s only so much time in one day, and he and his brothers only had one-day passes. Where should he go first? What’s at that one table with all of the paintings behind it? What’s that one guy doing in front of the giant bounce house? How much do the figurines here cost? Ian just had so many questions for all of the displays here, and he wanted to at least answer most of them while he was here.

“Cool,” Ian heard Carl say, the younger man looking around the crowded space. Carl started to walk ahead of both Ian and Lip, and the latter called to him as he and Ian quickly followed. It made Ian happy to know that Carl had so much energy for something he’s gotten him into a while prior. This made a really interesting bonding experience for the three boys.

The first display they had gone to was the giant comic book section to their left. There had to be over two thousand 99-cent comic books in this area alone, and Ian was here for every second of observing the giant stacks of classics. Lip and Ian wandered around, standing on the tiny steps that had been placed in front of the tables. Since there were so many books for everyone to see, it made sense for the steps to be there. Hell, even with the steps, Ian had trouble accessing some of the books that were closer to the center of the table. Not even his comic book collection at home was this large.

Lip had pulled a book out of the box just to get a better look at the title page, which showed a large letter A near the top that symbolized Marvel’s Avengers. “ _A Next: Into the Depths_ ,” Lip read the title aloud, and Ian lifted his head to see his brother observing the cover right next to him.

“Oh shit,” Ian spoke, leaning closer to his older brother to glance at the cover. “That’s the one with Ant-Man and the Wasp.”

“You never read this?”

“I only have, like, three Ant-Man comics, okay?” Ian told Lip, and the latter laughed in response. Ian amazed Lip sometimes. Monica had been buying him a shit ton of comic books since he was seven years old; Lip assumed that Ian pretty much knew the plot lines to more than half of the comics that existed in the Marvel Universe, as well as the DC Universe.

Of course, Lip doesn’t have the same level of interest in comic books as his younger brothers do, so he wouldn’t know.

Lip pulled the comic book out of the box and handed it to Ian before he browsed through a few more books in the box in front of him. Ian glanced down at the comic in his hands for a few seconds before he dug through his pockets for a dollar. He honestly thought Scott Lang was a pretty cool character, though he hasn’t read too much on him. Ian doesn’t know too much about his origin story, not after reading said three comic books he had back at home, but he oftened thought about what it would like to be him, what it would be like to shrink down to the size of an ant and make yourself look smaller and almost invisible to someone from about three feet away. It wouldn’t make all of Ian’s problems disappear, but he could do a ton of things with that ability, he’s sure.

Ian browsed through the box in front of him for a couple more minutes before he stepped down and followed Lip and Carl to another set of books in the same area. Carl seemed to have found five 99-cent comic books while Ian had been focused on just one all this time. Ian smirked at the idea that Carl was catching up with Ian’s comic book game almost effortlessly.

Once the three brothers got what they needed, they gave the employee their money. The man behind the table placed their books in a bag, and by the time they were done, Carl was already looking back into the bag at the new comics he purchased for himself. He had a lot to catch up on, as far as he’s concerned.

“Alright,” Lip said, his eyes wandering around the place a little bit. “Where should we go next?”

Ian scanned the area for a second to see what was in their general area. They’ve only been in the area with the 99-cent comic books. It wasn’t like a lot of time had passed since they’ve been here necessarily, but they only had a few hours here. What if one activity took up most of the day, and he won’t be able to go to another?

“This way,” Ian stated as he began leading the three of them to a booth about thirty steps from where they just were.

In the booth Ian found, there were a bunch of Funko Pop action figures sitting on a bunch of metal shelves. Ian found it unbelievable how so many figurines were able to take up this much space. Then again, the white boxes they were contained in had a lot of space in them, most of said space taken up by the access plastic inside. Once the three of them made it over there, Ian walked around the center to observe the tiny figurines with the giant heads through their plastic packaging. He never owned a Funko Pop before, though he’s seen them before and has been interested in them for the longest time.

One of the ones sitting in front of Ian was a figurine of the Batman animated series version of Harley Quinn. He picked the box up and observed the doll dressed in her signature black and red jester costume. Ian hadn’t watched the Batman animated series since he was eight years old, and he completely missed it. He and Monica used to watch it every Saturday morning while Ian worked on his homework for school. Monica didn’t understand all of the characters and their motives or anything like that, but it was always entertaining to see Monica wince at every punch and every kick one of the characters did when they were fighting their foes.

Man, did Ian miss watching that with Monica or what?

“You’re getting that?” Lip asked, looking down at the tiny box in Ian’s hand.

Ian glanced down at it a couple more seconds and nodded. “Yeah,” he declared. “I think I am.” He side stepped Lip and grabbed some more money out of his pocket, counting how much he had before he went up to the employee to pay for it. Lip’s eyebrows furrowed a bit at him. Something about Ian seemed off – it probably had to do with the Harley Quinn Funko Pop he was holding in his hands, but Lip’s not a mind reader or anything like that. It could be something else, for all he knew.

After making his purchase, Ian stuffed the Funko Pop box inside the bag with his Ant-Man comic inside. Carl was still looking around at the Funko Pop figurines on display, and Lip had walked over there with him to see if he wanted anything. While the other two looked at the different variations of the Joker in some of the Funko Pop boxes, Ian’s eyes fell upon some of the other tables and displays around him. Immediately, he noticed a wall covered with different costumes and clothing articles. Ian had a shit ton of comic book-themed clothes in the Gallagher house already, but some of the costumes on display looked a little intriguing, so he decided to check a couple of them out. Unfortunately for him, no one’s allowed to try any of them on before purchase, so Ian just gazed upon each piece of clothing his eyes could fall on, letting his mind wander a little bit.

Costumes existed for the sole purpose of being something you weren’t. There were different varieties of costumes out there for those who wanted to be vampires, witches, scarecrows, ghosts, and ghouls for Halloween. Specifically for the Chicago comic con – or any comic con, for that matter – there were a ton of costumes for those who wanted to dress up as Wonder Woman, The Riddler, Supergirl, Captain America – the list goes on and on, and there are even costume pieces beyond the ones for comic book characters.

There were a plethora of characters Ian wished he was instead of his normal self. Superman, and Supergirl, had so many abilities, coming from a different planet that would be useful to Ian, if he had them. Ant-Man, with the help of his superhero outfit, could shrink himself and practically keep himself hidden from the rest of the world until he wanted their attention. Hell, Violet from _The Incredibles_ could make herself completely invisible altogether. After the terrible events that have happened in Ian’s life, in addition to the people at his school who continue to bully him no matter what he did, he so wished he could be Violet. They had a lot of differences between each other, but they were also the same: two teenagers who have trouble facing society for different reasons.

Too bad invisibility powers don’t exist. If they did, Ian probably wouldn’t even be in the Gallagher house anymore. He would have been long gone since he was twelve years old – maybe even a little earlier than that. Had invisibility powers existed in this world, and Ian probably would have survived. He was familiar with the streets of Chicago by now, so all he really needed was to protect himself.

That’s a lot easier said than done in a place like Chicago, though.

Ian had been so zoned out, looking at a black and yellow Straight Outta Gotham shirt that had been hanging on the rack, that when he turned around to head back over to Lip and Carl, he almost didn’t notice someone with a horse head costume piece on top of their head, facing precisely in Ian’s direction.

“Shit!” Ian practically jumped out of his skin, almost tripping over his own feet and falling back on the wooden table full of DC-themed T-Shirts and handbags. He had no idea what this guy was thinking, trying to scare the living shit out of him, but he definitely wasn’t here for that.

The guy in the costume horse head giggled before he removed the light brown latex headpiece, revealing his actual face from underneath. “Sorry, man,” he told Ian, attempting but failing to hide his growing smile. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Ian took a moment to compose himself a little bit before he took the opportunity to look this stranger in the eye…

In his…bright, baby blue, sparkling eyes –

 _Fuck_.

The guy who bumped into him was a couple of inches shorter than Ian. He had placed his dark-rimmed glasses back on his face to compliment the red and yellow, somewhat tight-fitting Flash T-Shirt he had on. But not even those Barry Allen-inspired frames could take away the shine Ian was seeing in this dude’s eyes. His short hair was jet black with a little bit of gel mixed in, and his skin was just about as pale as Ian’s. The redhead didn’t know why someone like him would be willing to come up to him randomly and talk to him, but he was a little glad that he did. The guy seemed to be really nice.

Ian stammered. He did it out of habit most of the time. He didn’t have the best communication skills, especially when it came to unexpected encounters like this one. The guy standing in front of him seemed to tell, judging by the way he smirked in Ian’s direction. “Kinda caught you off guard there, did I?” Ian nodded awkwardly, stuffing one of his hands in his pants pocket out of nervousness.

The guy in front of him extended a hand in Ian’s direction in an attempt to shake hands with him. “Mickey,” he simply stated, waiting for Ian to take his hand. He glanced up in his direction and added, “Probably the biggest fucking comic book nerd in all of Chicago.”

“No fucking way,” Ian responded with a laugh, shaking the shorter man’s hand, and Mickey smiled back.

“Alright, maybe not the biggest,” Mickey told him, his hand releasing Ian’s and his eyes shifting down to his own feet for a second before glancing back up, “but aren’t pictures worth a thousand words and shit? If that’s the case, you should see all of the DC and Marvel shit in my goddamn room. My mom literally trips over that shit more than twice a week.”

Ian laughed again. The memory was a little faint, but he does remember a time when Fiona was cleaning the boys’ room in the Gallagher house, and she tripped over one of Carl’s Iron Man action figures that was sitting on the floor somewhere. She didn’t break anything or severely injure herself, thank God, but she was this close to throwing the thing at the boys’ heads the next time it were to happen.

Luckily, it didn’t happen, which Ian was especially relieved about.

“You got a fucking name there, Red, or am I gonna have to start calling you Chuckles?” Mickey suddenly asked, and Ian blushed a bit sheepishly.

“Uh, Ian,” he replied. “Ian Gallagher.”

“Gallagher, huh?” Mickey asked, taking the costume head and hanging it back up on the rack where it originally was. “I don’t see a lot of Gallaghers around here.”

Ian shrugged. “Wait until you see my family.”

Mickey chuckled. “Jesus, Gallagher. It’s only been, like, two minutes, and you already want to introduce me to your folks?” Ian pressed his lips closed and swallowed. He’s never been that smooth in his life, he’s realized, so replaying what he just said to Mickey almost made him want to take his words back. Mickey seemed to realize what just happened, judging by Ian’s facial expression, so he added, “I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want –“

“No, it’s…uh…” Ian scratched the back of his neck – again, out of habit. “You’re right; we did kinda just…meet.”

Mickey smiled at him, looking as though he sees something in Ian that the redhead doesn’t realize or some shit. Ian didn’t know what someone like Mickey saw in him anyway. Hell, Ian didn’t know what he saw in himself. He doesn’t really have any friends outside of his relationship with Lip and Carl, which doesn’t count because the three of them are brothers. So Ian didn’t really believe he had a personality worth delving into.

Mickey seemed to disagree. In fact, he barely even knew much about Ian, and already, he liked him. “If you wanna give it a minute or two before the time comes, I have my number.”

And the guy already wanted to share phone numbers, too. This must be some twisted déjà vu or something. Ian almost didn’t know what to say. “I – uh…really?”

“Did I fucking stutter, Gallagher?” Mickey asked, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and handing it to Ian. “Put your number in this, and I’ll send you a message or some shit later on. I want to keep my phone off until I get to the one of the TV show panels that’s coming up later on today, and I need all the fucking pictures I can get.”

“Really?” Ian asked, glancing down at Mickey’s iPhone 5s and typing in his number. “Which one?”

“The fuck do you think?” Mickey asked, gesturing down to his shirt. When Ian watched Mickey’s hand movements, he blushed once again, feeling like a complete idiot. He was somewhat okay with it, though, considering that Mickey wasn’t ridiculing him or anything like that. Mickey giggled as Ian nervously looked away from him. “No, seriously though, I practically begged my mom to take me here weeks ago just so I could see the guy who played Barry – you know, since the San Diego Comic Con is far away and all that shit…”

“And expensive as fuck,” Ian replied, saving his number on Mickey’s phone and handing it to Mickey.

“Damn right,” Mickey responded, pocketing his phone and frowning with much irritation. “Kinda makes me wish I wasn’t from here and lived in California instead.”

“You’re from Chicago?”

Mickey playfully rolled his eyes. “I mean, that was kinda obvious, Red.”

Ian laughed nervously. “Sorry. I – um…”

“Don’t fucking worry about it, man. It’s fine.”

Ian shrugged slightly, allowing silence to overtake them for a second or two before he asked, “Where in Chicago were you born then?”

Mickey shrugged. “South Side.” Ian’s eyebrows lifted at that. “I don’t live there anymore, though. I mean, I used to, but some heavy shit happened back there, and I ended up getting relocated to the North Side.”

“Relocated?”

“Adopted.” Ian nodded. It all made sense now, though it made him feel a little salty knowing that he and Mickey aren’t in the South Side together. If they wanted to meet each other face-to-face after the Chicago comic expo, they would have to travel on about two CTA trains and maybe a bus or two. “It’s okay down there, I guess,” Mickey added. “In the North Side, I mean. Some of the people down there aren’t really people I talk to on a daily basis, but…”

Ian nodded, and all of a sudden, the two of them heard voices behind them. When Ian heard his older brother call his name, he turned around and saw Lip and Carl headed in his direction. “Jesus, Ian,” Lip spoke. “We thought we lost you.”

Mickey pointed a thumb in Lip’s direction, his eyes focused on Ian. “This your babysitter or something?”

“Older brother,” Lip corrected, getting slightly defensive. “Who the hell are you?”

“Relax, Abe Lincoln,” Mickey replied with a slight chuckle. “I’m just teasing you. And the name’s Mickey; don’t let it slip from your tongue.”

“Mickey?” Lip asked him, and Mickey nodded. “Mickey…what?”

“Milkovich.” Lip frowned a little bit, and then Mickey added, “My parents’ last name is Kelly, though. I don’t really like it. It fits better with them. I’m usually better off letting you call me Milkovich anyway. It’s my birth name.” Both Lip and Ian nodded. _Milkovich_ sounded like a better surname for Mickey than _Kelly_ did.

Lip turned to Ian as he gestured to Carl right next to him. “Carl wanted to check out the face paint and shit from a booth he saw when we came in.”

“Alright. You guys go ahead.”

“What, you and Barry Allen over here have some catching up to do or some shit?”

“Is that supposed to be a problem?” Mickey asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Well, yeah, if I don’t know your ass and what you’re capable of,” Lip answered.

Mickey chuckled, bringing a hand up to Ian’s right shoulder, tugging the redhead closer to him. “Calm the fuck down, Lincoln. Red’s safe with me. The two of you go ahead and do whatever. I can take it from here.”

Lip was still uncertain about this guy. He had no idea who he was aside from his full name and what the hell he was wearing. He knew nothing about Mickey himself. Who knows what Mickey could be capable of? Lip didn’t want a repeat of what happened to Debbie that one time Frank left her in an empty playground by herself while he went to get intoxicated with his beer buddies. In retrospect, Debbie was still young back then – maybe about six or seven years old, to be precise – and Ian’s sixteen. He has the capability of taking care of himself, and Lip didn’t want to see his brother get annoyed with him on what’s supposed to be one of the best days of his life.

So with one final shrug, Lip replied, “Whatever, man. Cool.” He turned his head towards Ian. “If he shanks your ass or some dumb shit, keep a hold of him until I come back with some kryptonite.”

“Ay,” Mickey told Lip, trying to calm the dirty blond down a bit. “I’m not gonna do anything. I promise. You and Junior over there go have some fun.”

After a moment or two, Lip and Carl turned around and headed in the opposite direction of where Ian and Mickey were headed. Ian looked back at Lip just in case he gave Mickey a stink eye or a middle finger or something like that. Lip had a tendency to act nasty towards new people he didn’t know who were interacting with one of his younger siblings.

“The fuck’s up with him?” Mickey asked, pointing a thumb behind him where Lip was just standing.

“Older brother instincts,” Ian answered. “Don’t worry about it.”

Mickey huffed. “I mean, I get it, but do I come across as a fucking hoodlum or something to you?” Ian turned his head and watched as Mickey gestured towards himself with both of his hands.

Ian chuckled. “Not to me, you don’t.”

Mickey smiled at him. “Good to know, Red.” Ian bit down on his bottom lip, turning away from Mickey to casually glance at some of the booths to his left. He didn’t know how Mickey’s nickname for him made him tingle on the inside, but it did. Maybe it had to do with the way Mickey’s voice sounded when he said it. Either way, Ian liked Mickey, and he believed that the two of them will get along just fine.

* * *

Sure enough, Ian and Mickey spent the majority of the day together. The majority of their time in the convention was spent either looking at all of the cosplayers in their costumes or trying to figure out what the other wanted to purchase from one of the booths. They both spotted a bunch of things they were unable to purchase with the money they had in their pockets. At one of the booths, Ian found a larger collection of comic book-themed dolls and action figures, some of them costing as much as twenty bucks.

“Some of this shit here is fucking ridiculous, man,” Mickey spoke as he placed an enclosed Edward Nygma doll back on the shelf where it belonged. “Like, I get it, because this stuff is from a fucking comic book franchise and all, but I can’t even get my hands full with how much they’re charging and everything.”

Ian scoffed. “You’re telling me.”

“I’m serious. You wanna know how much coffee costs in one of the North Side coffee shops my mom goes to?” Ian shrugged. “Almost five dollars. How the fuck is she willing to spend five bucks every day?”

“You got me,” Ian chuckled. The two of them were wandering around at this point, but then something came up in Ian’s head that he needed to ask. “Speaking of your mom, where is she?”

“Work.”

“And she left you here?”

“She’s okay with it. As long as I’m not pissing on any of the merchandise, I’m good.” Ian giggled. He could only imagine Fiona’s reaction to Carl taking a piss on a Hulk shirt somewhere in one of the Marvel sections at the convention.

Mickey pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time only to gasp suddenly. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The Flash panel starts in less than an hour.”

“Where is it?”

“All the way on the other side of the fucking room,” Mickey groaned, placing his phone back into his pocket.

“We can still make it.”

“I want a fucking front row seat for this shit, Gallagher, and you have no idea how packed these things usually get.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Ian turned around, ready to head in the direction of the panel rooms. According to the map he was given earlier, they should be on the second floor of the building. It was all a matter of finding them and getting in line before the lines started to fill up.

Suddenly, Ian started to speed walk away from the booth, and Mickey tried to keep up with him, but seeing as how there were a shit ton of people here, it was almost difficult to do so. “Yo Gallagher,” Mickey called, “wait up!” He pushed past some of the people in front of them, some of them giving him irritated glances he could give two shits less about.

Eventually, Ian had gotten further up ahead than Mickey did, and the shorter man almost lost Ian in the crowd full of people. That didn’t stop him from at least trying to catch up. He knew exactly where the room was – he’s checked the map for the location about twelve times before he stepped foot into this building – so he could at least meet Ian there, assuming that Ian’s headed in the same direction he is.

They both struggled to get past people, though Mickey was able to clearly see Ian up ahead of him again. Mickey sped up a little, trying to close the distance between him and the redhead, even if his legs were burning on him. _Fucking Christ_ , Mickey thought as he finally made it to the stairs. Ian really did have some long legs on him, didn’t he?

Soon enough, they both found the general direction the panel was scheduled to take place. There were about twenty people in line already – not as many as Mickey thought there would be, which was a relief on his part. Ian and Mickey rushed over to head in line, and once they were in between the ropes, they sat down on the floor with everyone else.

The two of them were a little out of breath, but it was worth the rush. “We made it,” Ian told Mickey with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, if I didn’t have to chase your ass through the goddamn room,” Mickey responded without much bite into his tone, and Ian sheepishly giggled.

The two of them were quiet for the next couple of minutes. Ian had pulled his phone out of his pocket to check for any new messages from any of his siblings. Other than one from Fiona asking Ian if he was having a fun time, and the test message Mickey sent with the _face sticking the tongue out_ emoji next to it, he didn’t receive messages from anyone else. So Ian just turned his phone back off and put it away.

“What did you get?” he heard Mickey ask, and when Ian glanced up at him, he pointed to the plastic bag in his hands.

“Uh –“ Ian opened his bag to check the contents inside. “A Harley Quinn Funko and…one of the 99-cent Ant-Man comics.”

“Which Harley Quinn?”

“ _Animated Series_ Harley Quinn.”

Mickey nodded. “Wise choice,” he responded. “My dad keeps talking shit about how the one from the video game is better.” Ian frowned. “That’s what the fuck I looked like when he told me, too. I mean, her voice is cool and shit, but she doesn’t hold a fucking candle to the original.”

“I think Carl likes the video game version, too.”

“Better than the original?” Ian shrugged. “Shit,” Mickey replied in disbelief, running his hand through his jet black hair. “They’ve been corrupted.” Ian started to belly laugh, and Mickey smiled back. Mickey liked earning smiles from the redhead. It’s like he gets him somehow. Back at home, he doesn’t really know a lot of people his ago who really gets him. Most of them had other interests Mickey couldn’t find himself getting into other than the comic book-related universes he’s been exposed to for years. Ian’s still fairly new to his life, but he wouldn’t want to give the guy up. He’s really interesting, from what he’s got out of him so far.

The two of them continued to wait, and as they did, Mickey started to pull some comics out of his bag for Ian to see. “Check this out,” Mickey spoke, pointing to each cover, one at a time. “ _Batman Beyond, Volume 5_ –“

“No way.”

“Way.”

“I’ve been looking for that one for months.”

“Which ones do you even have?”

“Volumes 2 and 3.”

“See, that’s where you fucked up,” Mickey explained, pointing a finger at his shoulder. “How can you read all of the follow-up stories without reading the first one?” Ian didn’t answer; he lowered his head bashfully, and that’s when Mickey started to laugh a little. “I’m not gonna hold it against you, man. Come on.”

Ian and Mickey waited in line for the next half hour or so until an usher led everyone inside the panel room. Ian and Mickey made sure they quickened their pace a bit so they were able to get a front-row seat. Lucky for them, they were able to find two seats right in front of the stage. Ian could tell how excited Mickey was just by the satisfied look on his face once he sat down.

“Oh, my God,” Mickey stated, nearly wanting to jump in and out of his chair.

Ian smiled. He’s never actually seen the TV show _The Flash_ , but he’s heard a lot of things about it, and he’s even gotten a few glimpses of the cast a couple of times or another. Grant Gustin, the guy that played Barry Allen on the show, seemed like a very nice guy. He understood why Mickey liked him and his character so much.

The two of them stayed in their chairs, looking through some of the stuff they each bought for themselves, and soon enough, a woman walked across the stage in front of them, welcoming everyone to _The Flash_ panel, and everyone applauded. There were a ton of people in this room alone. Ian now understood why he and Mickey had to come here early.

Before either Ian or Mickey knew it, the woman was introducing each of the cast members individually, and they all came walking across the stage. This panel literally just started, and Ian’s already excited for it, even if he isn’t too familiar with all of the actors from the show. It was even more of a joy to see Mickey smiling at all of them. He seemed to be having a very fun time.

* * *

After hours of going to panels, buying souvenirs, playing a bunch of games they had set out, and seeing a bunch of people dressed up as their favorite fictional characters, it was time for Mickey and the Gallaghers to leave. Ian didn’t want to leave this place; he practically wanted to live here, among all of the action figures and other merchandise he was unable to purchase with the money he had left. He wanted to explore each booth two more times with Mickey and to admire everyone’s costumes again. He wanted to go and see the comic book-related panels again, especially _The Flash_ panel, where Mickey actually got a chance to ask Grant a question when the Q &A session came about. Ian couldn’t stop smiling when Mickey almost stammered a bit when it was his turn to speak. He had the opportunity to meet one of his idols, and Ian couldn’t be any prouder.

Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end at some point. _The Flash_ cast had to return back to Los Angeles and finish up whatever they had to work on for their show, and Ian and Mickey both had one-day passes, so they couldn’t come back tomorrow, either.

It’s fine, though. They always had next year. Besides, Mickey has enough photo evidence of his experience on his phone to look back on, so everyone was pretty much satisfied.

Ian and Mickey were walking through the main floor, carrying their bags of merchandise and chatting up a storm about all of the amazing things they saw and some of the comic books they have stuffed somewhere in their rooms, when they found Lip and Carl near one of the literature tables. Lip had been looking through a novel a lady was selling at her table, while Carl was busy flipping through one of his 99-cent comic books. At the sound of Ian’s voice, Lip turned around and spotted the duo headed in his direction.

“You guys done?” Lip asked Ian and Mickey.

Ian shrugged, looking around the place one more time. He really didn’t want to leave. Spending time with Mickey at the Chicago Comic Con had to be one of the best experiences of his life. Surely, he’ll get to see Mickey again, being that they exchanged phone numbers and stuff earlier on, but it’ll take a couple hundred bucks more to save up for when they could go to this again. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Mickey chuckled as he watched Ian gaze around the room. “I was like that the first time I came to one of these things.”

Ian’s head whirled around towards Mickey, and a frown appeared on his face. “Wait, I thought you said you never went to one of these before.”

“Hold on, champ. I said I haven’t been to the one in San Diego. I’ve been to this thing in Chicago once before. I was with my dad back then, though, and he wasn’t feeling it this year.” Ian nodded. Boy, Mickey had some advantages of living on the North Side, didn’t he? There wasn’t really a place in Chicago Ian could say is the most glamorous; every side of Chicago, every street of Chicago, every neighborhood is bound to get infested with gun violence and other kinds of crime every now and then. Still, being in the South Side all his life, he’s never really had much luxury. Maybe the North Side isn’t as cool as the South Side, but from the things he’s hearing from Mickey, it must be decent.

After Lip purchased the book from the literature table, the four boys were headed out of McCormick Place. Carl started talking about all of the things he saw when he walked around the room with Lip, and Ian pointed out some of the things they mutually visited throughout the day. Carl and Mickey had acknowledged each other at one point when the four of them had gotten outside, and Ian couldn’t stop smiling as their debate about which superhero, between Iron Man and Superman, would win in a battle.

The four of them stood by the CTA stop, Mickey volunteering to do so after he called his mother and told him the convention was over. It was about seven o’clock at night. The area had gotten dark really fast, though there were a bunch of street lights on, along with some lights on inside the buildings.

Aside from a bunch of people talking around them, Mickey and the Gallagher brothers were silent. Lip sent Fiona a text message letting her know that he, Ian, and Carl would be headed back home soon. Carl had unwrapped some giant cookies with blue frosting and an image of Batman painted somewhere on the side for him to eat. Some of the frosting stuck to the paper, but that wasn’t stopping Carl in any possible way.

Ian had sat down at the bench next to a guy in a Simpsons T-Shirt and a tan jacket, trying to ignore the smell of smoke that was coming his way. His plastic bag sat on his lap, and he could see some of the stuff he purchased during the convention. He had a 99-cent Ant-Man comic, a Harley Quinn Funko, a black and white GCPD hat, and two larger comic books – _Arkham Manor: Chapter 2_ and _Black Panther: Vol. 5, Chapter 1_. At the prices some of the booths charged for merchandise, Ian wasn’t even sure if he could afford some of this stuff upon checking them out. That’s why he was thankful for Lip and Fiona for providing him the money for a pass to get in, even if they didn’t have to do it at all.

Ian’s head was leaning against the plexiglass of the CTA bus stop’s booth. The bus isn’t coming for another twenty minutes – or, well, at least the bus that’s headed in the direction he, Lip, and Carl are supposed to go. Why there were so many routes on one street, Ian didn’t know, but he found it annoying. He was already getting chilly in his Superman hoodie. That’s probably what he gets for going to a convention that’s located in a building near Lake Michigan, though.

Mickey was standing in front of him, also leaning against the plexiglass. It still amazed Ian as to how he and Mickey were able to become fast friends over the course of a few hours – Ian’s not sure if friends is the correct term; maybe acquaintances, for now, unless Mickey states otherwise. Ian can barely make friends at his high school, especially when many of them came off as intimidating, but Mickey? Mickey’s really kind, hilarious, and friendly – and outgoing as well. He’s nothing like some of the people Ian’s met at his school, which is a shame partly because Ian didn’t really have the best classmates in the world, especially being that a great amount of them came from his elementary school, where Ian’s encountered some of the worst times of his life. Ian sure wish he had a couple of friends like Mickey, though; maybe then, the classification of a comic book nerd, to about half of the school, wouldn’t sound like some bad label.

The raven-haired man tapped on his phone screen a couple of times, and from where Ian was sitting, he could see the little smile that appeared on Mickey’s face as his eyes scanned his phone. He was probably looking at _The Flash_ panel photos again. He probably couldn’t wait to get home and tell his parents what he saw today. Mickey had to be one of the luckiest guys in the world today, and seeing that warmed Ian’s heart a little.

Mickey tapped the keyboard a couple more times before he placed his phone back in his pocket and turned in Ian’s direction. “My mom’s here.” There was a hint of disappointment in Mickey’s voice, and Ian couldn’t blame him. They were having such a good time, and now the day is officially over. “See you around, yeah?”

Ian nodded eagerly and matched the smile on Mickey’s lips. “Yeah. Later, man.”

Mickey pushed himself off the plexiglass so he was standing on his own two feet, and as he walked across the street, a woman in a frost white Honda Civic lowered her car window down to greet Mickey as he made his way to the passenger’s side door. The woman – Mickey’s adoptive mother, Ian assumes – is stunning. Her face looked clear, and her eyes were just as blue and bright as Mickey’s. Her hair was brown with some highlights in it here or there. It almost reminded Ian of Fiona’s hair, except Fiona’s hair is a little shorter in comparison and it was a couple of shades darker. Mickey’s mother also had a bright smile on her face, her teeth dazzling like the giant sign in front of The Chicago Theatre, and from that alone, Ian could tell how much she and Mickey actually got along.

The Honda Civic drove away after a couple of seconds of being parked along the side of the curb. Ian and Mickey had a really great day, but Ian knows Mickey will at least have a great night, especially when thinking about seeing the cast of _The Flash_ in person before his very eyes. Ian could already imagine what it would be like to see Mickey chatting up a storm with his folks and watching the adults smile as Mickey describes everything he saw. They would both show some kind of interest into the conversation, whether comic book-related stuff was their thing or not. Maybe the dad would get a little enthusiastic after finding out that some of the comic book artists signed people’s books and shit like that and would get jealous over the fact that he was unable to go with his son. Whatever Mickey and his parents would be up to tonight, at least they would be able to end the day right.

Ian sighed. That was another reason why he didn’t want to go home. Fiona, Debbie, and Liam weren’t his main concern – he understands Fiona and Debbie’s lack of interest in comic book franchises and all that, and Liam probably doesn’t even know half the shit Ian and Carl discuss the Avengers or something like that. It’s Frank that’s suddenly on Ian’s mind, even if Ian wished he wasn’t. His good day was ruined within seconds knowing that he’ll be going back home to the man who doesn’t appreciate his own kids enough to discuss these types of things. Had Monica still been alive, and Ian would have been talking all night about everything he saw, and she would have loved to hear every detail.

Ian couldn’t get upset right now. Today was a good day. He bought some more comic books for his collection. He bought a Harley Quinn Funko. He got the opportunity to meet Mickey. He went to a panel with actual celebrities in it. He and Mickey got to wander around the place and observe all of what the Chicago Comic Con had to offer.

This was a good fucking day, and Ian refused to let Frank directly or indirectly ruin it.

* * *

Lip, Ian, and Carl got home within less than an hour by the CTA bus, and they were all extremely exhausted. Carl had fallen asleep with his head on Lip’s shoulder, and Ian had fallen asleep with his head leaning against the bus window. Lip had to shake the both of them awake so they could get off at their stop, and once they did, the three Gallagher boys walked the rest of the way until they got to the front porch of their house.

Upon walking in through the front door, they spotted Fiona cleaning up the dirty silverware and plates with food scraps on them. She turned her head at the sound of the door opening and smiled when she met eyes with her brothers. “Hey, you’re back,” she greeted them, carefully placing the stack of plates into the sink. “How was the convention?”

“Awesome,” Carl told her, placing his plastic bag down in the chair at the dinner table. Lip went to join him there, but Ian chose to sit on the couch and relax his entire body after waking up to his neck feeling somewhat stiff. He overheard Lip and Carl enthusiastically talk about all of the things they saw at the Chicago Comic Con, but his mind was mainly focused on the new text message he received a few minutes ago.

 **From: Mickey, 7:45 p.m.  
** _Did you make it back home safely?_

 **To: Mickey, 7:59 p.m.  
** _Yeah, we just walked in the house._

Ian’s heart felt like a heat chamber, warming the inside of his body as Ian’s eyes fell upon Mickey’s message. He really must want to be Ian’s new best friend, didn’t he? And Ian really wanted him to be a best friend, too. Mickey seemed so caring, aside from being a comical soul. He always made Ian smile for whatever reason, and even if they’ve only spent a couple of hours together, Mickey cared about his well being enough to message him and ask him if he was okay.

No one outside of the Gallagher family – minus the next-door neighbors, maybe – has ever cared for him this way before.

Ian was just about to tap out of the messages app and turn his phone off when he received another notification from Mickey about a couple of seconds after Ian responded.

 **From: Mickey, 8:00 p.m.  
** _You sure you don’t need me to send Bruce Wayne over there to check on you?_

Ian giggled as he sent him another message.

 **To: Mickey, 8:00 p.m.  
** _Batman, genius. And no, I’m good over here._

“Exhausted?” Ian heard Fiona’s voice flow through his left ear. His older sister stood by the arm of the couch and knelt down so she could look her younger brother in the eye.

“Pretty much,” Ian responded, running a hand through his red hair.

Fiona couldn’t stop herself from smiling. He could see in her eyes that Ian had a fun time there, despite him being exhausted from making the trip all the way back here and his body getting too adjusted from him sitting down alone. Fiona’s gotten a taste of what Carl and Lip have seen at the convention; now she wants to hear from Ian. “Did you have a good time?” she started, her cheek resting against her hand. “Lip told me you split.”

Ian shyly glanced down at his phone as a smile crept on his face. “Uh…” he started, fumbling over where he should start this conversation off. “Yeah, I – I met someone today.”

Fiona inched an eyebrow on her forehead. “You… _met_ someone?”

“A friend. His name’s Mickey, and he’s really nice.”

Fiona nodded understandably. “How did you meet him?”

Everything after that felt so fast. Ian went on to describe everything leading up to the moment he and Mickey met. Going to look at the Funko dolls, Ian wandering around until he found the clothing booth, getting scared shitless at the sight of Mickey with a fake horse head over his own head – they were small moments, and the moment Ian came face-to-face with Mickey isn’t the usual way people meet each other. At the same time, though, unique introductions like that one meant a lot to one’s perception on the other. While Ian was this close to screaming at that sudden moment Mickey encountered him, it defined what kind of person Mickey actually was: a humorous guy with a keen interest in knowing other people.

And that showed throughout the entire day. Ian’s never really had someone who was willing enough to reach out to him the way Mickey did. Most of the kids at school just referred to him as the quiet one or the nerd and went along with their day. _Nerd_ was somewhat understandable, in Ian’s eyes; he did have a shit ton of posters and comic book-themed stuff in his locker at school – pencils, erasers, pencil cases, playing cards – it’s a geek’s dream space, practically. However, it’s not really something the people at his school would be interested in asking about or anything like that.

Or, that’s what Ian thinks. That’s one of the reasons why he’s never expressed himself about his love for comics that much to the people at school.

That, and he didn’t want to be laughed at again like he was in elementary school during his gym class.

Mickey wouldn’t laugh, though. He wouldn’t laugh. He shares the same interest in comic books as Ian does, and he never really judged Ian for what he owns, what his interests were, or how he spends his time. It’s nice to have that for a change, Ian believes. He doesn’t completely trust that his friendship with Mickey will stay strong or anything like that yet – he literally just met the guy today, despite Ian getting Mickey’s number and vice versa – but it’s most definitely a start.

Ian could tell from the looks his older sister’s giving him that she’s happy for him. He gets why, too. Ever since Monica committed suicide, and Ian almost followed suit, the redhead had been in the most terrible funk imaginable. The rest of the Gallaghers weren’t any better, considering that they had Frank as a father and everything, but Ian’s had it the worst out of all of them. Lip and Fiona always looked at their brother with sad looks on their faces as they watch the redhead cooped up in a corner by himself somewhere. There would also be times where Lip would invite Ian to a party hosted by some friends at their school, but Ian would always decline. He knew then, if Lip’s friends were anything like the ones who humiliated him at the age of twelve, then he didn’t want to be around them. Still, Ian’s reluctance to meet new people closed him off from the world sans the Gallaghers, and that wasn’t something any of them wanted.

Ian going to the Chicago Comic Con and meeting Mickey was a blessing in disguise, and Fiona’s more than thankful that she and Lip were able to give him what he wanted. She didn’t originally believe that Ian would find someone there that would stick as a friend beyond the Chicago Comic Con, but now that Mickey’s stepped into Ian’s life, she couldn’t be anymore grateful.

Fiona had told the boys that their dinner plates were in the fridge, so after their talk, Ian had gotten up off the couch to heat his food up and eat with his brothers. The three of them plus Fiona ended up having a group conversation as the boys ate, and once they were done, everyone started preparing to go to bed. As Ian got ready for bed, though, he continued to receive text messages from Mickey on his phone. The last message he sent was during Ian’s conversation with Fiona. It was still eight o’clock in the evening – almost nine, really – but it wasn’t like Mickey was asleep right now or anything.

Well, Ian thinks so anyway.

Ian lazily brushes his teeth with one hand as he types away a message to Mickey using another hand, careful not to get any toothpaste on his phone screen.

 **From: Mickey, 8:02 p.m.  
** _You can never be so sure._

 **To: Mickey, 9:08 p.m.  
** _That’s so sweet._

 **From: Mickey, 9:09 p.m.  
** _The fuck are you talking about, Gallagher?_

 **To: Mickey, 9:10 p.m.  
** _How much you care about me. :)_

 **From: Mickey, 9:10 p.m.  
** _Fuck off._

And their conversation continued on until Ian was fully washed up and into his pajamas. The other Gallaghers in the house had already fallen asleep about an hour and a half later, but Ian was too busy texting Mickey random jokes or whatever came to his mind. It’s the longest Ian’s ever been in a conversation with anybody, and Ian’s usually not the kind of person to chat a lot with one person for a long time like this. He obviously talks to his siblings a lot every day, but it’s different with them because they’re family. Outside of the Gallaghers, aside from a greeting, a goodbye, or some one-sentence response to one of his teachers, he doesn’t really talk that much. The trauma he’s experienced throughout his childhood had a lot to do with that, especially.

Maybe things are turning around, Ian supposes.

 **To: Mickey, 10:43 p.m.  
** _I’m about to go to bed._

 **From: Mickey, 10:43 p.m.  
** _So you’re an early bird, huh?_

 **To: Mickey, 10:44 p.m.  
** _Ten o’clock is early for you?_

 **From: Mickey, 10:45 p.m.  
** _I’m just kidding you, Red. But seriously, though, I have an assignment I have to finish and turn in Monday morning, and I didn’t even fucking start on it._

 **To: Mickey, 10:46 p.m.  
** _What are you waiting on then?_

 **From: Mickey, 10:46 p.m.  
** _For you to turn your fucking phone off so I can concentrate._

Ian smirked as he typed the next message out for Mickey.

 **To: Mickey, 10:47 p.m.  
** _So I’m suddenly a distraction for you?_

 **From: Mickey, 10:47 p.m.  
** _Fuck you._

Ian giggled at his phone screen from where he was laying on the pillow. Eventually, the two of them bid their farewells, Mickey going to work on whatever he had to do for Monday, and Ian turned his phone off, plugging it into the outlet behind his nightstand, and laying back down again.

Moments ago, Ian didn’t believe he and Mickey could actually keep this thing going with them – whatever this thing even was; they just met, so they really don’t know anything. Things have the potential to change from here. Ian could go back to closing himself off from other people. Mickey could be too busy to talk to Ian – as painful as that sounds, Ian can imagine Mickey doing something like that, though he wouldn’t necessarily be too upset with Mickey about it. The only problem Ian would have with that is trying to reach out to Mickey himself, because with everything that’s gone on in Ian’s past, he hasn’t built up much confidence when it came to things like initiating conversation or anything like that.

Right now, Ian liked this. He liked the sudden connection he and Mickey shared, and neither one of them are immune to problems that could come their way, but Ian didn’t want to focus on that. He’s happy. He’s genuinely happy, even if it’s only for an hour, a minute, a second. He has a new friend to talk to with a similar interest in comic books and their characters, and it’s more than anything Ian’s ever gotten with the new people who have walked into Ian’s life.

For the rest of the night, all Ian could dream about was the amazing day he’s had with Mickey and his brothers. It had been a really satisfying day, to say the least, and it’s the first night Ian could feel the corners of his mouth stuck in that same, content smile until he was completely deep into his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when part 3 is going to be up, because I'm still working on this story as we speak, but I still wanted to share part 2 with you guys. If you have any questions or comments about the story so far, or you just want to talk, [my Tumblr inbox](http://xmasmickey.tumblr.com/ask) is open. Feel free to stop by whenever you like.
> 
> And, as always, happy reading. <3


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